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THE 

POETICAL WORKS 

OF 

ROBERT BURNS: 

INCLUniNO 

SEVERAL PIECKS NOT INSKRTKT) IN I>R. CURRIE^i 

edition: EXIlimTED UNDER A NEW 

PLAxN OF ARRANGEMENT, 

AND PKIOCKOKl) IJY 

A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR: 

WITH 

NOTES, AND A COMPLETE GLOSS^JRY. 



BOSTON: 
PHILLTP^ SAMPSON, AND COMPANY. 

1857. 



•'t? ^ 



ADVERTISEMENT 



The present edition was undertaken by a gentleman with 
the view of presenting the public with the roctical Works 
of Bums more methodically arranged, more copiously il- 
lustrated, and less expensive in the purchase, than they 
have yet appeared. 

In comparing it with others, it will be found to possess 
several advantages. 

I. It contains, besides a number of other pieces not in • 
serted in Dr. Currie's edition, "The Jolly Beggars," a 
cantata replete with humorous description and discrimi- 
nation of character, and inferior to no poem of the same 
length in the English language. It likewise compre- 
hends " Holy Willie's Prayer," a piece of satire . une- 
qualled for exqvdsite severity and felicitous delineation. 

n. In the editions hitherto published, no regard is paid 
to method or classification. In this, the poems are dis- 
posed according to their respective subjects, and divided 
into five books. 

m. Most of the poetry of Burns, though possessing an 
energy, a richness, and an ardor, which never fail to strika 
and captivate the mind, yet appears laider great disadvan- 



4 ADVERTISEMENT. 

tages to the Englisli reader. Much of the fire, which 
warm*" ar.i -^az/lcs a native of Scotland, is to him necessa- 
rily lost oy the obscurity of the language. To obviate this 
as much as possible, a considerable number of words have 
been added to the Glossary, and several of the old defini- 
tions ha-y ^von corrected or cnltu-gcd. A new Life, draA^ii 
up with care and fidelity, haa lilcowise been prefixed. 

Of an edition, thus enlarged and improved, it is unne- 
cessary to say more. Should its utility be acknowledged, 
the editor viill consi<l«r his exertions sufficiently rewarded, 

LoKDON, Fkb&uakt 25, 1819. J. T. 



IN T E N T S . 

Advertisement, .... 3 

Life of Kobcrt Burns, 17 

Preface to the First Edition *5 

Dedication to tlie Second Edition, . . 47 



BOOK I. 

MORAL, RELIGIOUS, AND PRECEPTIVE. 

The Twa Bogs 51 

Tlic Brigs of Ayr, ^^ 

The Vision, ^'"^ 

The Cotter's Saturday Night, 77 

Verses Avritton in Eriar's-Carsc Hermitage, on Nith- 

Side, 85 

A Prayer, under the Pressure of violent Anguish, ... 87 

A Prayer, in tlie Prospect of Death, 83 

Stanzas, on the same Occasion, 89 

Verses left by the Author at a Ilcvcrcnd Friend's 

House, in the lloora where ho slept, ^0 

A Grace before Dinner, « ^1 

The First Psalm, ^'-^ 

The First Six Verses of the Ninetieth Psalm, 93 

Epistle to a Young Friend, ^ • 

1* 



6 CONTENTi. I^^^H ! 

HOOK IT. ■. 

rvnirrit, ki.ioiac, am» ni'Siuirrivr.. 

1*11 n" 

M;u\ was wMulo to Mi>iiiu <18 

A Wintrr >;i;;ht U)l 

^Viut(>^• Kt.f 

l>i'S]u)iuKM\cy, lOCi 

'I'.) Kuiu lOS 

l.aniont of Mary. thuHMv of Srots, on ihr Approach oi' 

i^priu};-, 1 01) 

Tlu^ l-anuMit/oiH'asioutHl l>y tlir unl'orliiuah^ Issuo ol" a 

FriiMid's Amour 1 1'J 

l.Minont. or !i Mo(h(M- lor llio \h\\\]\ ni'hcv Son IIT) 

I .atntMit. Tor Janios, Isarl of ( i Umu aiin 1 10 

l,iiios siMit to Sir Jolm ^^■lutr^or^l. o\' N\ hiU'l'or,!. Ivirl.. 

w ilh flio ron*;j;'oinj( l*0(Mu 11;) 

Stralhnllan's Lauiont II;) 

Tht^ ("lu'ViiUor's Latuonf \'2i) 

'riu« Aiilhor's Fannvrll to his Nativo Coniilry 121 

Farewell to Ayrsliirr 12'J 

Tlio FartMvrll to thi> llrrllinMi of Si. .Ian\(>s".s Lod-v, 

Tarlu.lto,. \'2.i 

ViucwcW to JClL/,!i \'ir) 

lliohlaud Mary,.. 1:!« 

To Mnry in 1 loavon rJ7 

Elojj;y, on iho Isjto Miss lUirm>t, of Moivbodilo 1U8 

N'cMsos, on roatUu<jf, in u Nowspapor, tho .l>oath of 

John ^ri.rod, I'lstj., UrotluT tci n Yonnij; Lady, 

a particnhu" Friend of (ho Author, I'-'l) 

SonutM, on Ihr Doalli of Itohorl. Uidchd, Esq., of (ilon 

luddrl. April. I7;)l i;U 

V(MS(\s on th(> l)(-a;h of Sir .lanios lluntvr Fdair, . . l.'Jl 

Adi!ri>5s to the Sha(K> of Thonisvin. on crownin;; his 

Ihist. at Fdiiani, l?(^\hur;;hshir(\ uith Hays,... l;h"? 

l-)pitapl\ lor the Autlntr's l'\iihiT, I'M 



OONTKNTH. ' 






t"^rn^..y :::::::::.... ,...« 

Om a 1' ru'iul, 

A HnnrN Isi.ilMi.h • " '•*" 

Vi«m«M, on Uu« Hiith <>r a I'nHll.muons Cluia. I...ni m 

|,(>cuUar (UrcuiuMtivncoK of I'muily DiMtross 117 

I.i,u<s, o.i Hciriui; Hon>.> WnUn-FoNvl. in i.o.U-Turit, u 

Nviia Sronr mnuMj. llu- Hills nl' Ou-hU'vl.yro,. . . 138 

Sonnot wrilU.n on Uu> 2.lW ..f January. l7l):J. tho 
lUrll.-.lMy of thr AullH.r, un lu.uini; a' lIuuHh. 

in a Momin^^ Walli '*^'* 

On StMiHihilil y, ' ' 

To (I'MouHo. on lurninf;' Iwr up in luM- NoHt, wit,l> Mi.^ 

lMou^.li. NovtMuhcr, 1780 l'*^ 

To II Monntiiin DaiMy. on t.nniin^ ouo (lowu wlMi Muv 

IMou-h, iu April. 17S(; ''^^ 

'J"lu« h.i.nl.ln Prliiion of Hruar- Wuf-or, to Uio noblo 

I )uko of Atliol." U5 

VorMCH, on scrinK u woundi'd Mar.- limit l.y me. wlii'li 

a K,«llo\v had just, nhot, at ^^^ 

Liars wrill. ,. uitl. a INmuH. uvrr tho Cluiunry-pioro, 

i,j ,|„. p,,,!,,,. ,,1(1h- Inn at. Krnniorc. 'raymoutli, M9 
l.inrsu.ilt.-M will, a l'.«uril, .sl.an.lin- by tho Tall of 

Vyrr.. nnu- Lu.h-Nc-s. ""'^^ 



BOOK 111. 

l.\MII.IAa AINU I.IMMIOI.AIIY. 

To MiHS ('ruiUshanUs, ii vrry Youn- l,a.ly - Nvrlttcu 
„u tho hh.nk l.rai uf u Hook prortcuttul to hor 
l.y tho AuMior ^'^^ 

VorscH. on ii Youuk l.-uly roHi.UuK on th.« 15auk:< of tho 
hxuall Kivcr Di-von. in (nackniannauidnio, liut 
whoso infant Ycurrt vvcro Hpcut iu Ayr:iluro,. .. 162 



8 CONTKNTS. 

Tar- 
To ^liss Ij—— ,witli Bciittic's Poems, as a Now-\' ear's 

Gil't, January 1, 1787, lo3 

Verses to a Youug Lady, witlx a Present of Songs, 153 

Verses Avrittcn on the bltuik Leaf of a Copy of his 

Poems, presented to a Ijady, whom he had 

often celebrated under the Name of Chloris, ... 15-t 
To a Young liady, IMiss Jessy L , JHimfrios, with 

Books Avliieh the Bard presented her 155 

Verses written on tlie bhiuk Leaf of a Copy of his 

Poems, presented to an okl Sweetheart, then 

married, 156 

To J. S****, 156 

Epistle to Davie, a brother Poet, 162 

To the Same, 168 

Epistle to J. Lapraik, 170 

To the Same, 174 

To W. S*****n, 178 

Epistle to J. K.** *,***, enclosing some Poems, 185 

To Dr. Blacklock, 188 

To Colonel De Peyster, 190 

Letter to J s T 1 G 1— no— r 192 

To Mr. Mitchell 19-t 

To the Guidwife of Wauchope-llouso, in .Vuswer to 

an Epistle she had sent the Author, 196 

To J. lliuiken, on his Avriting to the Author that a 

Girl was Avith Child by him 198 

Address to an Illegitimate Child, 199 

Tc a Tailor, in Answer to an Epistle whi.'h he had 

sent the Author, 200 

To Mr. William Tytler, Avith a Porivait of the 

Author '20o 

Epistle to 11. (jiraham, Esq., of Fintra, 'JO t 

To the Same J07 

To the Same, on receiving a Favor, 210 

To u Gcntlcmiui whom the Autlior had oU'ended,. ... 2U 



CONTENTS. 9 

Paga 

To n Gentlomau who had sent him a Newspaper, and 

on'cred to continue it Tree of Expense, 212 

/, .etch, to Mrs. Dunlop, on a New- Year's Day, 213 

.iiG Anld Fanner's New- Year Morning Salutation to 

lus Auld Mare, Mag^e, 215 

The Death and dying Words of Poor Mailie, the Au- 
thor's only pet Yowe, 219 

Poor Mailic's Elegy 2 il 



BOOK TV. 

HUMOROUS, SATIIUCAri, EI>IOTlAMMATICAri, AND 
MlSCr.LI.ANKOUS. 

Tarn O'Shantcr, 224 

Halloween 232 

The Jolly Beggars 243 

Death and Dr. Hornbook, 257 

A Dream, 2G4 

Scotch Drink, 2G9 

The Author's earnest Cry and l*rayer to the Scotch 

Ilepresentativcs in the House of Commons,.. . . 274 

Address to the Dcil, 281 

On the late Captain Grose's Peregrinations through 

Scotland, collecting the Antiquities of that 

Kingdom 285 

Linos written in a Wrapper, enclosing a Letter to 

Captain Grose, 288 

Ejngram, on Captain Grose, 289 

liines, on an Literview with Lord Daer 290 

The Inventory, 291 

To a Louse, on seeing one on a Lady's Bonnet, at 

eiiureh 294 

Address to the Tooth- Ache. 296 



10 ■ CONTENTS. 

To a Ilagc:is, 207 

The Holy Fair JOO 

The Ordination, 305* 

Address to the Unco Guid, or Rigidly Kight- 

cous 314 

The Twa Hertls, 317 

The Calf, 321 

Holy AVillic's Prayer, 322 

Epitaph, on Holy Willie 325 

Thc-Kirk's Alarm, 326 

Letter to John Gondie, Kilmarnock, on the Publica- 
tion of his Essays, 330 

A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton, Esq., 331 

I iines addressed to Mr. John Ranken, 336 

liines Avritten by Burns, while on his Death-bed, to 

the Same, 337 

Extempore, at a Electing of the Dumfriesshire Vol- 
unteers, 337 

Extempore, on the late Mr. AVilliam Smcllic 338 

To Mr. S**e, on refusing to dine with him, after hav- 
ing been promised the first of Company, and 

the first Cookery 338 

To Mr. S**^, with a Present of a dozen of Porter,. . . 339 
Extempore, written in Answer to a Card from an In- 
timate of Burns, iuAdting Mm to spend an 

Hour at a Tavern 339 

Extempore, written in a Lady's Pocket-Book 310 

liines, on Miss J. Scott, of Ayr, 3-40 

LinDS written under the Picture of the celebrated 

Miss Burns, 3-10 

lines, on being asked why God had made Miss Da^'i3 

so little, and Miss so large 341 

liines written and presented to Mrs. Kemblo, on see- 
ing her in the Character of Yarico, 311 

Lines M-ritten on M'indows of the Globe Tavern, 

Dumfiies, 34i 



CONTENTS. 11 

Pag« 

Lines written on a Window, nt tho King's- Arms Tav- 
ern, ])ninirioH 313 

A. Verso ])rescnt -i by the Author to the INIastcr of a 
House, at a Place in the lli^^hhuidH, wlicrc ho 

had been hospitably entertained, 343 

Kpigrani, on the Neglect of an Inn-keeper 341 

Ei)igrani, on Elphinstone's Translation of Martial's 

Ej)igranis, 344 

Versos written on a ^V'iudo^v of the lun at Carron, . . . 34.'5 

Epitaph, on a celebrated lluling Elder 34.5 

On a Noisy I'oleinic, 346 

On Wee Johnny, 34G 

For (I. IL, Es(i 3 IG 

On a Wag in Mauehline 347 

On John Dove, Inn-keeper, Mauchline 347 

On Walter S , 348 

On a IIen-peck(Hl (Jouutry Squire, 348 

]']piL;ram on said Occasion, 348 

Ano' her, : 349 

( )n the Death of a J^ap-dog named Echo 341) 

Impromptu, on Mrs. 's IJirth-day, 3.j0 

Monody, on a Lady famed for luu* Cajjrice, 3.) I 

Tne E[)itai)h, 3,')2 

Ode, sacred to the ISIemory of Mrs. , of .... 3.V2 

The llen-i)ecked Husband, 3.j4 

Elegy, on the Year 1788 3.>4 

1'am Sanisou's Elegy, 3^0 

The Epitaph, 3r;9 

Per Contra 3(10 

IClegy, on Captain MatMiew Henderson, 3()0 

The Ei)itai)h, 3(i i 

On a Scotch l>ard, gone to the West Indies, 3().'> 

On Pastoral Poetry, 3l)7 

Prologue, spoken at the Theatre, Ellisland, on Xew- 

Ycar-Day E-. suing 309 

L'rologiu\ spoken by Mr. Woods, on his licuelit-night, 371 



12 CONTENTS. 

Pag« 

The Rights of Woman, au Occasional Addrca?, spo- 
ken by Miss rontcncllc, on her Bcnctit-nii;ht, 373 

Address, spoken by ^Miss Fontencllo, on her Bcnetit- 

night, at the Theatre, Diinifrics, 374 

Fragment, inscribed to the liight Hon. C. J. Fox, 376 

Inscription for an Altar to Independence, at Kerrough- 

try, the Seat of ^Ir. Heron, 378 

Address to Edinburgh, 373 



BOOK V. 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 



A Vision, 382 

Bannock Burn— Robert Bruce's Address to liis Ai-my, 381 

Song of Death, 385 

Imitation of an old Jacobite Song, 386 

The Lass of Inverness, 386 

The Absent Warrior 387 

The Warrior's Return, 389 

Lord Gregory 391 

Open the door to me, Oh ! — Avith Alterations, 392 

The Entreaty, 393 

The Answer 394 

The Forlorn Lover, 395 

The Dreary Night, 396 

Poortith CauU 308 

Clarinda 398 

Isabella, 399 

Wandering Willie, • • • • . 399 

The Parting Kiss, , 400 

The Roaring Ocean; ' 401 

Fair Eliza, 402 

Eliza, 403 



CONTENTS. 13 

Pago 

The Bnics o' Ballochmylo, 404 

Gloomy December, 404 

Departure of Nancy ' 405 

My Nanie's Awa, 406 

Banks o' Doon, 407 

The Disconsolate Lover, 407 

Cragic-Burn, 409 

The Cheerless Soul, 410 

Mary Morison 411 

Fair Jenny, 412 

Address to the Wood-Lark 413 

Fragment, in "VVitherspoon's Collection of Scots' 

Songs 414 

Address to a Lady, 415 

The Auld Man, 415 

John Anderson, my Jo, 416 

Auld Lang Syne, 417 

Hopeless liovc, 418 

Banks of Nith 419 

Banks of Crcc, 420 

Castle Gordon, 420 

Afton Water 423 

The Sacred Vow 423 

The Rigs o' Barley, 424 

The Lca-llig, ^. 425 

The Lass of Bnllochmylc, ft 426 

Bonie Lesley, 428 

Bonic Jean, 429 

Dainty Davie 431 

To Jeanio 432 

Cloudcn Knowes, 433 

Lovely Nancy, 434 

To Chloris 435 

Lassie wi' the Lintwhito Locks, 436 

Chloris 437 

The llose-Bud, 437 

3 



14 CONTF.NT9. 

Pago 

The lUrks of AbortVlily -13S 

This is no my aiu T.iissio, 4 tO 

Coustanoy, 4i I 

IVggy's Charms 142 

Jossy i-i;} 

T\\c Bluc-oycvl I.ivssic 4 i 4 

Wilt thou be my Do:me ? 414 

The lUissful Day 440 

liOvely Joajx, 44(5 

Lucy 447 

imthe rhomie 44S 

Chanuing Namiio 449 

Green giMw tlie Hashes, 4.') I 

The lUghhuul Lassie 4VJ 

Am\a 4.')4 

The Sinnuing-AVhool, 4oo 

The Country Lassie, 4o(> 

Tain Cleu, 457 

Somebody -^ 4o0 

O Whistle. &o 4.)i) 

Ane-and-Tvventy, 400 

Tlie Yoxmg Lassie 4i> I 

The Mercenary Lover 4(>2 

Meg o' the UiW 4t>3 

My Tocher's tli« Jewel 404 

Auld Hob Moiirts 404 

To 'nbbie, 405 

Dvmcan Gray 467 

^* Tnaw Wooer 40S 

Willie's Wife 470 

A Peck o" Maut^ 47 1 

The Lawin 472 

Honest Poverty -i "'^ 

The TvUtle of ShoritV-Muir 4 75 

Contentment, 477 

The Piuufries Tohuitccars, 473 



CONTKNTS. 15 

Calcdonin, il 70 

Ooiiiiu through tho Kyo, 480 

Tlio W'histlo, 481 

John Hiirloycoin, 485 

(SHoaaary, 491 



1^2"^ ^V 




* i 



r.IFK OF ROBERT BURNS. 



TiiKui: is no poet of the present age more acsorvcdly 
pO[)ul:ir tliiui Burns. Though born in an humble station 
b\ Ulc, lie raised himself, by the mere exertions of his 
niincl, to the highest jnteh of intellectual greatness. The 
originality of his genius, the 'energy of his language, and 
the riL:hncss of his imagination, merited the gratitude as 
M ell as the admiration of his countrymen. But his high- 
est eflforts, in wliich the tide of human feeling seemed to 
How ill deep and exhaustless channels, failed to soften the 
avarice of a mean and seliish aristocracy. Like his native 
and lonely hills, he -was subject to every blast, and exposed 
naked and bare to every tempest. lie was an elevated 
jinint, round Avhich the storm clung and gathered ; a prom- 
inent rock, condenmed by nature, as it v^-crc, to endui-e the 
l)uifettings of the surge. Yet his rude splcndbr remained 
uiunjurod. Amidst the bitter Avaters of indigence and 
sorrow, of drudgery and neglect, he produced those beau- 
tiful idylliums which will ever exist for the delight of the 
world ; and which will never bo road without an expan- 
sion of the imderstanding and of the heart. 

Robert Burns was born on the 25th of January, 17o9, in 
n cottage near the banks of the Doon, about two miles 
from Ayr. The chief incidents of liis life are related, by 
liimself, in a letter to Dr. Moore. In this document, and 
in several i)assagcs of his correspondence, he unfoldn the 
ii* 



18 LIFE C*' ROBERT BURNS. 

vicissitudes of his fortune, and the peculiarities of Ida 
character, -with great strength and clearness. "S^Tioever 
would do justice to his memory, must copy his sentiments 
and his language. 

" For some months past," says he, "I have been ram- 
bling over the country ; but I am now contined with some 
lingering complaints, originaimg, as I take it, in the sto- 
m^ach. To divert my spirits a little in this miserable fog 
of ennui, I have taken a whim to give you a history of 
myself. My name has made some little noise in this 
country ; you have done me the honor to interest yourself 
very warmly in my behalf; and I think a faithful account 
of what character of a man I am, and how I came by that 
character, may perhaps amuse you in an idle moment. I 
will give you an honest narrative ; though I know it will 
be often at my own expense ; for I assure you, sir, I have, 
like Solomon, whose character, except in the trilling affair 
of wisdom, I sometimes think I resemble ; I have, I say, 
like him, ' turned my eyes to behold madness and folly,' and, 
like him, too, frequently ' shaken hands with their intoxi- 
cating friendship.' * * * * After you have perused these 
pages, should you think them trilling and impertinent, I 
only beg leave to tell you, that the poor author wrote 
them tmder some twitcMng qualms of conscience, arising 
from suspicion that he was doing what he ought not to do ; 
a predicament he has more than once been in before. 

" I have not the most distant pretensions to assume that 
character which the pye-coated guardians of escutcheons 
call a gentleman. AVhen at Edinburgh, last winter, I got 
acquainted in the Herald's Office, and, looking through 
that granary of honors, I there foiuid ahnost every name 
in the kingdom ; but for me, 

' My aucie.-U but ignoble blood 
Has crept throu-h scci;'idrels ever since ihc flood.' 

Gules, Purpure, Argent, &c., quite disowned me. 

" My father was of the north of Scotland, the son of « 
farmer, who rented lands of the noble Keiths of Marischal, 



LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS. 1ft 

and had the honor of sharing their fate. I do not use the 
word honor with any reference to political principles: loya, 
and disloyal I take to be merely relative terms, in that an- 
cient and formidable court, known in this country by the 
name of Club law, where the right is always with the 
strongest. But those w^ho dare welcome ruin, and shake 
hands with infamy, for what they sincerely believe to be 
the cause of their God, or their king, are, as Mark Antony 
says, in Shakspeare, of Brutus and Cassius, 'honorable 
men.' I mention this circiunstance, because it threw my 
father on the world at large. 

" After many years' Avanderings and sojournings, he 
picked up a pretty large quantity of observation and 
experience, to which I am indebted for most of my httle 
pretensions to wisdom. I have met with few who under- 
stood men, their manners, and their ways, equal to him ; 
but stubborn, ungainly integrity, and headlong, ungovern- 
able irascibility, are disqualifying circumstances ; conse- 
quently, I was bom a very poor man's son. For the first 
sbc or seven years of my life, my father was gardener to a 
worthy gentleman of small estate, in the neighborhood of 
AjT. Had he continued in that station, 1 must have 
marched off to be one of the little underlings about a 
farm-hou^e'; "but it was his dearest wish and prayer to 
have it in his power to keep his children under his own 
eye, till they could discern between good and evil ; so, 
with the assistance of his generous master, my father ven- 
tured on a small farm on his estate. At those years, I was 
by no means a favorite with any body. I was a good deal 
noted for a retentive memory, a stubborn, sturdy something 
In my disposition, and an enthusiastic, idiot piety. I say 
idiot piety, because I was then but a child. Though it cost 
the schoolmaster some thrasliings, I made an excellent 
English scholar ; and, by the time I was ten or eleven 
)'ears of age, I was a critic in substantives, verbs, and par- 
ticles. In my infant and boyish days, too- I owed much to 
Ui old woman who resided in the family, remarkable foi 



20 LiFE OF I.OBERT BURNS. 

her ignorance, crerUility, and sTi]-!cvstition. She had, I snp. 
pose, the hirgest collection in the country, of talcs and 
songs concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, broAvnics, ^vitches, 
warlocks, spunkios, kelpies, elf- candles, dead-lights, wraiths, 
ap]")aritions, cantrips, giants, enchanted towers, dragons, and 
other trumpery. This cviltivated the latent seeds of poetry ; 
btit had so strong an effect uu my imagination, that, to this 
hour, in my nocturnal rambles, I sometimes keep a sharp 
look-out in suspicious places ; and though nobody can be 
more skeptical than I am in such rr.atters, yet it often takes 
an effort of philosophy to shake off tnese idle terrors. The 
earliest composition that I recollect Lctiving pleasure ux, was 
the Vision of Mirza, and a hymn of Addison's, beginning, 
• How are thy servants blest, O Lord ! ' I partieidarlv 
remember one half stanza, which was music to my boyish 
ear: — 

'Fur tliougli on dreadful wliiiii we liiing 
High on the liroken wave ' 

I met with these pieces in IMason's English Collection, one 
of my school books. The two first books I ever read in 
private, and wliich gave me more pleasure than any two 
books 1 ever read since, wxre the Life of Hannibal, and the 
History of Sii- William Wallace. Hannibal gave my young 
ideas such a turn, that I used to strut in raptures uj) and 
down after the recruiting di'um a)\d bag-pipe, and wish my- 
self tall enough to be a soldier ; v.-hilo the story of Wallace 
poured a Scottish prejudice into my veins, wliich -will boil 
along there till the flood-gates of life shut in eternal rest. 

** Polemical divinity about this time v\'as putting tlie 
country half mad ; and I, ambitious of shining in coiiver- 
fiation parties on Sundays, between sermons, at fimerals, &c., 
used, a few years afterwards, to piizzle Calvuiism with so 
much heat and indiscretion, that I raised a hue and cry of 
heresy against me, which has not ceased to this hour. 

" My vicinity to A}t was of some advantage to me. !My 
social disposition, when not checked by some modifications 



LIFE OK ROBERT BURNS. 21 

of Spirited pride, was, like our catechism definition of 
infinitude, * without bounds or limits.' I formed several 
connexions with other younkers who possessed superior 
advantages, the youngling actors, who Avere busy in the 
rehearsal of parts in which they Avere shortly to appear ou 
the stage of life, where, alas ! I was destined to drudge 
behind the scenes. It is not commonly at this green a<^3 
that our gentry have a just sense of the immense distance 
between them and their ragged playfellows. It takes a few 
dashes into the world to give the young great man that 
proper, decent, unnoticing disregard for the poor, insignifi- 
cant, stupid devils, the mechanics and peasantry around 
him, who were, perhaps, born in the same village. My 
young superiors never insulted the clouterly appearance 
of my ploughboy carcass, the two extremes of which were 
often exposed to all the inclemencies of all the seasons. 
They would give me stray volumes of books ; among them, 
even then, I could pick up some observations ; and one, 
whose heart I am sure not even the Munny Begum scenes 
have tainted, helped me to a Httle Trench. Parting Avith 
these, my yoimg fi-iends and benefactors, as they occasion- 
ally went off for the East or West Indies, Avas often to me 
a sore affliction ; but I Avas soon called to more serious 
evils. My father's generous master died ; the farm proved 
a ruinous bargain ; and, to clench the misfortune, we fell 
into the hands of a factor, Avho sat for the picture I have 
draAATi of one in my tale of TAva Dogs. My father Avas 
advanced in life when he married ; I was the eldest of 
seven chOdren ; and he, worn out by early hardships, was 
unfit for labor. My father's spirit was soon irritated, bufc 
not easily broken. There Avas a freedom in his lease in 
two years more ; and, to Aveather these tAvo years, Ave re- 
trenched our expenses. We Kvcd very poorly ; I was a 
dexterous ploughman, for my age; and the next eldest to 
me Avas a brother (Gilbert) Avho could drive the plough 
very Avell, and help me to thrash the corn. A novel write* 
might, perhaps, have vicAved these scenes Avith some satis< 



22 JMFE OF ROBKPcT BURNS. 

faction ; but so did not I ; my indignation yet boils at the 
recollection of the s 1 factor's insolent, threatening let- 
ters, which used to set us all in tears. 

" This kind of life — the cheerless gloom of a hermit 
"with the tmccasing moil of a galley slave, brought me to 
my sixteenth year, a little before which period I first com- 
mitted the sin of rhjone. You know our country custom 
of coupling a man and woman together as partners in the 
labors of harvest. In my fifteenth autumn my partner was 
a be"\^■itching creature, a year younger than myself. My 
scarcity of English denies me the power of doing her jus- 
tice in that language ; but you know the Scottish idiom — 
she was a bonie, sweet, sonsie lass. In short, she, alto- 
gether unwittingly to herself, initiated me in that delicious 
passion, which, in spite of acid disappointment, gin-horse 
prudence, and book-Avorm philosophy, I hold to be the first 
of human joys, our dearest blessing here below ! How she 
caught the contagion I cannot tell : you medical people 
talk much of infection from breathing the same air, the 
touch, &c. ; but I never expressly said I loved her. Indeed, 
I did not know myself why I lilced so much to loiter 
behind with her, when returning h\ the evening from our 
labors ; why the tones of her voice made my heart-strings 
thrill like an ^^olian harp ; and particularly why my pulse 
beat such a furious ratan when I looked and fingered over 
her little hand to pick out the cruel nettle-stings and this- 
tles. Among her other love-inspii-ing qualities, she sung 
sweetly ; and it M'as her ffivorite reel to which I attempted 
giving an embodied vehicle in rhyme. I was not so pre- 
sumptuous as to imagine that I could make verses like 
printed ones, composed by men who had Greek and Latin ; 
but my girl sung a song which was said to be composed 
by a small country laird's son, on one of liis father's maida 
with whom he was in love ; and I saw no reason why I 
might not rhpne as well as he ; for, excepting that he could 
smear sheep and cast peats, his father living in the moor« 
lands, he had no more schokrcraft than myself. 



LIFE or koi{i:rt klr.vs. 23 

" Th\is -svith mc began love and poetry, which at times 
have been my only, and till within the last twelve months 
have been my highest, enjoyment. My father struggled 
on till he reached the freedom in his lease, when he entered 
on a larger farm about ten miles further in the country. 
The nature of the bargain he made was such as to throw 
a little ready money into his hands at the commencement 
of his lease, otherwise tlie affair \\-ould have been imprac 
ticable. For four years we lived comfortably here ; but & 
dill'erence commencing between him and his landlord as to 
terms, after three years' tossing and Avhirling in the vortex' 
of litigation, my father was just saved from the horrors of 
a jail by a consumption, wliich, after two years* promises, 
kindly step])ed in, and carried him away to * where the 
wicked cease froni troubling, and the weary are at rest.' 

" It is during the time that we lived on this farm, that 
my little story is most CA'cntful. I was, at the beginning 
of this period, perhaps, the most ungainly, awkward boy 
in the parish — no so/i/«irc was less acquainted with the 
ways of the Avorld. AVhat I knew of ancient story was 
gathered from Salmon's and (iuthrie's geographical gram- 
mars ; and the ideas I had formed of modern manners, of 
literature, and criticism, I got from the Spectator. These, 
with Pope's works, some plays of Shakspeare, Tell and 
Dickson on Agriculture, The Pantheon, Locke's Essay on 
the Human Understanding, Stackhouse's History of the 
Lible, Justice's British Gardener's Directory, Bayle's Lec- 
tures, Allan Ramsay's works, Taylor's Scripture Doctrine 
of Original Sin, A select Collection of English Songs, and 
llervey's Meditations, had formed the whole of my read- 
big, The collection of songs M'as my vade mecum. 1 pored 
over them, driving my cart, or walking to labor, song by 
song, verse by verse ; carefully noting the true tender, or 
sublime, from affectation and fustian. I am convinced I 
owe to this practice much of my critic-craft, such as it is. 

♦'In my seventeenth year, to give my manners a brush, 
I went to a country dancing-school. My fatlier had an 



24 LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS. 

unaccountable antipatliy against these meetings ; and nij 
going was, what to this moment I repent, in opposition tc 
his wishes. IMy father, as I said before, was subject to 
strong passions ; from that instance of disobedience in me 
he took a sort of dislike to me, wliich I believe was one 
cause of the dissipation wliich marked my succeeding 
years, I say dissipation, comparatively with the strict- 
ness, and sobriety, and regularity, of Presbyterian country 
life ; for though the Will o' Wisp meteors of thoughtlcsa 
wliim were almost the sole lights of my path, yet early 
Ingramed piety and virtue kept me for several years after- 
wards within the line of innocence. The great misfortune 
of my life was to want an aim. I had felt early some stir- 
rings of ambition, but they were the blind groj^ings of 
Homer's Cyclops round the walls of his cave. I saw my 
father's situation entailed upon me perpetual labor. The 
only two openings by which I coiild enter the temple of 
Fortune, was the gate of niggardly economy, or the path 
of little chicaning bargain-making. The first is so con- 
tracted an api)ertm-e, I never could squeeze myself into it ; 
the last I always hated — there was contamination in the 
very entrance ! Thus abandoned of aim or view in life, 
with a strong appetite for sociability, as well from native 
liilarity, as from a pride of observation and remark ; a con- 
stitutional melancholy, or hypochondriasm, that made me 
fly to sohtude ; add to these incentives to social life, my 
reputation for bookish knowledge, a certain Mild logical 
talent, and a strength of thought something like the rudi- 
ments of good sense ; and it will not seem surprising that 
I was generally a welcome guest where I visited, or any 
great wonder that, always where two or three m.et together 
there was I among them. 

"But far beyond all other impulses of my heart was un 
2}enchaut a V adorable moitie de genre humain. My heart 
was completely tinder, and was eternally lighted \ip by 
Bome goddess or other ; and, as in every other warfare in 
this world, my fortime was various ; sometimes I was re- 



LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS. 25 

ceived with favor, and sometimes I Avas mortified with, a 
repulse. At the plough, scythe, or reap-hook, I feared no 
comjjetitor, and thus 1 set absolute Avant at defiance ; and 
as I never cared farther for my labors than while I M^aa 
in actual exercise, I spent the evenings in the way after 
my own heart. .A country lad seldom carries on a love 
adventure Avithout an assistmg confidant. I possessed a 
curiosity, zeal, and intrepid dexterity, that recommended 
me as a proper second on these occasions ; and, I dar© 
say, I felt as much pleasure in being in the secret of half 
the loves of the parish of Tarbolton, as ever did statesmen 
in knowing the intrigues of half the courts of Eui'ope. 
The very goose-feather in my hand seems to know instinc- 
tively the Avell-Avorn jiath of my imagination, the favorite 
theme of my song ; and is with difficulty restrained from 
giA^ing you a couple of paragraphs on the love adventures 
of my compeers, the humble inmates of the farm-house 
and cottage ; but the grave sons of science, ambition, or 
avarice, baptize these things by the name of Follies. To 
the sons and daughters of labor and poverty, they are mat- 
ters of the most seriovis nature ; to them, the ardent hope, 
the stolen intervicAV, the tender farewell, are the greatest 
and most delicious parts of their enjoyments. 

** Another circumstance in my life, Avliich made some 
alteration in my mind and manners, Avas, that I spent my 
nineteenth summer on a smuggling coast, a good distance 
from home, at a noted school, to learn mensuration, svir- 
veying, dialling, &c., in which I made a pretty good pro- 
gress. But I made a greater progress in the knowledge 
of mankind. The contraband trade Avas at that time very 
successful, and it sometimes happened to me to fall in 
\\'ith these Avho carried it on. Scenes of SAvaggering riot 
and roaring dissipation Avere till this time new to me ; but 
I Avas no enemy to Sv '^ial life. Here, though I learnt to 
fill my glass, and to mix without fear in a drimken scjuab- 
ble, yet I went on with a tiigh hand Avith my geometry, 
t/'ll the sun entered Vii'go, a month which is always a 
3 



26 LIFE OF ROBERT HURINS. 

carnival in my bosom, when a charming Jilette, who hved 
next door to the school, overset my trigonometry, and sol 
me off at a tangent from tlie sphere of my studies. I, 
however, struggled on with my sines and cosines for a few 
days more ; but, stepping into the garden one charming 
noon to take the sun's altitude, tlicre I met my augol, 

' Like Proserpine i^aihering flowers, 
Herself a fairer flower.' 

It was in vain to think of doing any more good at school. 
The remaining week I staid, I did nothing but craze the 
faculties of my soul about her, or steal out to meet her ; 
and, the two last nights of my stay in the country, had 
sleep been a mortal sin, the image of this modest and in- 
nocent girl had kept me guiltless. 

" I returned home very considerably improved. My 
readixig was enlarged with the very important addition 
of Thomson's and Shenstone's works; I had seen human 
nature in a new phasis; and I engaged several of my 
school-fellows to keep up a literary correspondence with 
me. This improved me in composition. I had met with 
a coilection of letters by the wits of Queen Anne's reign, 
and I pored over them most devoutly : I kept copies of 
any of my own letters that pleased me ; and a comparison 
between them and the compositions of most of my corre- 
spondents flattered my vanity I carried this whim so far, 
that though I had not three xarthings' worth of business 
in the world, yet almost every post brought me as many 
letters as if I had been a broad plodding son of a day- 
book and ledger. 

"My life flowec' on much in the same course till my 
twenty-third j-ear. Vive V amour, et vive la bagatelle, 
were my sole principles of action. The addition of two 
more authors to my library gave me great pleasure : Sterno 
and M'Kenzie — Tristram Shandy and the Man of Feel- 
ing — were my bosom favorites. Poesy was still a darling 
walk for my mind ; but it was only indulged in according 



LIFE OF KOJJKKT BUUNS. '27 

U> the humor of the hour. I had usually half a doj:cn c 
more pieces on hand ; I took up one or other, as it sailed 
the moraentar)- tone of the mind, and dismissed the Avork 
as it bordered on fatigue. ^My passions, when once lighted 
up, raged like so many dc\T.ls, till they got vent in rhyme ; 
and then the conning over ray verses, like a spell, soothed 
all into quiet ! None of the rhymes of those days are in 
print, except Winter, a dirge, the eldest of my ])rinted 
pieces; the Death of poor Mailie; John Barleycorn; the 
songs, first, second, and third. Song second was the ebul- 
lition of that passion wliich ended the fore-mentioned 
school business. 

"My twenty-third year was to me an important era. 
Partly through whim, and partly that I wished to set 
about doing something in life, I joined a flax-dresscr in 
a neighboring town (Irvine) to leai-n his trade. This was 
an unlucky affair. My * * * * ; and, to finish the whole, 
as we were giving a welcome carousal to the new year, 
the shop took fire, and burnt to ashes; and I was left, 
like a true poet, not worth a sixpence. 

" I was obliged to give up this scheme ; the clouds of 
misfortune were gathering thick round my father's head, 
and what was worst of all, he was visibly far gone in a 
consumption ; and, to crown my distresses, a belle Jille, 
whom I adored, and who had pledged her soul to meet 
me in matrimony, jilted me Avith peculiar circumstances 
of mortification. The finishing evil that brought up the 
rear of this infernal file, was my constitutional melancholy, 
being increased to such a degree, that for three months I 
was in a state of miiid scarcely to be envied by the hope- 
less wretches who have got their mittimus — ' Depart from 
me, ye accursed ! ' 

"From this adventure I learned something of a town 
life ; but the principal thing which gave my mind a turn, 
was a friendship I had formed with a young fellow, a very 
noble character, but a hapless son of misfortune. He ws 
the son of a simple mechanic; but a great man in tha 



28 



LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS. 



tieighborliood taking him Tindor his patronage, gave Mm 
a genteel education, with a view of bettering his situation 
in life. The patron dying just as he was ready to lauiich 
out into the world, the poor fellow, in despair, went to sea ; 
where, after a variety of good and ill fortune, a little before 
I was acquainted with him, he had been set on shore by 
an American ])rivateer, on the wild coast of Comiaught, 
Btripped of every thing. I cannot quit this poor fellow's 
story wdthout adding, that he is at this time master of a 
large West-lndiaman belonging to the Thames. 

♦'His mind was fraught with independence, magnanim^ 
ity, and every manly virtue. I loved and admii-ed Mm to 
a degree of enthusiasm, and of course strove to imitate 
him. In some measure I succeeded : I had pride before, 
but he taught it to How in proper channels. His knowl- 
edge of the world was vastly superior to mine, and I was 
all attention to learn. He was the only man I ever saw 
■who w^as a greater fool than myself, where woman was 
the presiding star ; but he spoke of illicit love with the 
levity of a sailor, which hitherto I had regarded with hor- 
ror. Here Ms friendsMp did me mischief; and the con- 
sequence was, that soon after I resumed the plough, I 
wrote The Poet's Welcome.* My reading only increased, 
while in this town, by two stray volumes of Pamela, and 
one of Fcrdiiaand Count Pathom, which gave me some idea 
of novels. Khyme, except some religious pieces that are 
in print, I had given up; but meeting with Ferguson's 
Scottish Poems, I strung anew my wildly-sounding lyro 
with emulating vigor. When my father died, his all went 
among the hell-hounds that prowl in the kennel of jus- 
tice ! but we made a shift to collect a little money in the 
family amongst us, with wMch, to keep us together, my 
brother and I took a neighboring farm. My brother want- 
ed my hair-bramcd imagination, as well as my social and 

* This piece, we believe, was aAerwarda entitled. Address to an illec 

filimato Child. 



LIFE CF ROBERT BURNS. 29 

amorous madness ; but in good sense, and every sober 
qualiftcation, he was far my superior. 

" I entered on the farm Avith a fall resolution, « Come, 
go to, I Avill be wise ! ' I read farming books ; I calculated 
crops ; I attended markets ; and, in short, in spite of ' the 
devil, and the world, and the flesh,' I believe I shovild 
have been a wise man ; but, the lirst year, from unfortu- 
nately buying bad seed, the second, from a late harvest, 
we lost half our crops. This overset all my wisdom, and 
I returned, * like the dog to his vomit, and the sow that 
was washed, to her wallowing in the mire.' 

" I now began to be known in the neighborhood as a 
maker of rliymes. The first of my poetic offspring that 
saw the light was a burlesque lamentation on a quarrel 
between two reverend Calvinists, both of them dramalu 
"persoiKB in my Holy Fair. I had a notion myself that the 
piece had some merit ; but to prevent the worst, I gave a 
copy to a friend who was very fond of such things, and 
told him that I could not guess who was the author of it, 
but that I thought it pretty clever. With a certain de- 
scription of the clergy, as well as laity, it met with a roar 
of applause. Holy Willie's Prayer next made its appear- 
ance, and olarmed the kirk-session so much, that they held 
several meetings to look over their spiritual artillery, if 
haply any of it might be pointed against profane rhymers. 
Unluckily for me, my wanderings led me, on another side, 
wdthin point-blank shot of their heaviest metal. This is 
the unfortunate story that gave rise to my printed poem. 
The Lament. This was a most melancholy affair, which I 
cannot yet bear to reflect on, and had nearly given me one 
or two of the principal qualifications for a place among 
those who have lost the chart, and mistaken the reckoning 
of rationality.* I gave up my part of the farm to my 



* Tliis distraction of luiiul aro'^c from the misery and sorrow in which 
he involved Jean Armour, aficrwards Mrs. Burns. Slie was h grea« 
favorilc oi" ker father. Tiie intimation of a marriage wae the hrsi suj- 

3# 



30 LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS. 

brother ; in truth it was only nominally mine ; and ratida 
what little preparation was in my power for Jamaica. But, 
before leaving my native country for ever, I resolved to 
publish my poems. I weighed my productions as impar- 
tially as was in my power : I thoui>ht they had merit ; and 
it was a delicious idea, that T should be called a clever fel- 
low, even though it should never reach my ears — a poor 
negro-driver, or perhaps a victim to that inhospitable clime, 
and gone to the world of spirits ! I can truly say, that 
pauvre inconnu as I then was, I had pretty nearly as high 
an idea of myself and of my works, as I have at this mo- 
ment, when the public has decided in their favor. It was 
my opinion, that the mistakes and blunders, botli in a ra- 
tional and religious point of vieAV, of which we see thou- 
sands daily guilty, are owing to their ignorance of them- 
selves. To know myself, has been all along my constant 
study. I weighed myself alone ; I balanced myself with 
others ; I watched every means of information, to see how 
much ground I occupied as a man and as a poet ; I studied 
assiduously nature's design in my formation — where the 
lights and shades in my character were intended. I was 
jn'ctty confident my poems would meet with some ap- 
plause ; but, at the worst, the roar of the Atlantic would 
deafen the voice of censure, and the novelty of West Lidian 
scenes make me forget neglect. I threw off six hundred 
copies, of Avhich I had got subscriptions for about three 
hundred and fifty. My vanity was highly gratified by the 



geslion lie received of her rciil siluation. He v/as in t!ie greatest ii3- 
tress, and fainted away. The marriage diu not appear lo him to make 
the matter belter. He expressed a wish that the agreement bej^ft'een 
ihem siiould be caneelle<l This was communicated to Burns. He t'elt 
the deepest angnish of mind. He offered lo stay at home, and provide 
for liis wife and family by every exertion in his power. Even this wa« 
not approved of ; and liumble as Jean Armour's station was, and great 
though her imprudence had been, she was still thouylit, by lier pariia. 
parents, to look forward to a more advantageous connexion thitn ilial 
which now presented uselt. 



LIFE OF ROBKRT BURNS. ff\ 

reccjition I met with from the public ; and besides, I pock- 
eted, all expenses deducted, nearly twenty pounds. This 
sum came very seasonably, as I was thinking of indenting 
myself, for want of money, to procui-c my passage. As 
soon as I was master of nine guiiieas, the price of wafting 
mo to the torrid zone, I took a steerage passage in the first 
ship that was to sail from the Clyde, for 

'llunpi")' ruin had mo in llic wind.' 

" I had been for some days skulking from covert to cov- 
ert, under all the terrors of a jail ; as some ill-advised peo- 
ple had uncoupled the merciless pack of the law at my 
heels.* I had taken the last farewell of my few friends, 
my chest was on the road to Greenock ; I had composed 
the last song I shoidd ever measure in Caledonia. The 
gloomy night is gathering fast, — when a letter from Dr. 
Blacklock, to a friend of mine, overthrew all my schemes, 
b}' opening new prospects to ray poetic ambition. The 
doctor belonged to a set of critics, for whose applause I 
had not dared to hope. His opinion, that I would meet 
with encouragement in Edinburgh, for a second edition, 
lired me so much, that away I posted for that city, without 
a single acqiiaintance, or a single letter of introduction. 
The baneful star that had so long shed its blasting influ- 
ence in my zenith, for once made a revolution to the nadir ; 
and a kind Providence placed me under the patronage of 
one of the noblest of men, the earl of Glencaii-n. Oublie 
vioi. Grand Dieu, si jamais je V oublie! 

" I need relate no farther. At Edinburgh I was in a 
new world ; I mingled among many classes of men, but 
all o^them new to mo, and I was all attention to * catch 
the ^laracters and ' the manners living as they rise/ 
\Vhethcr I have prolitcd, time will show." 



♦ Tbis.was lo olilig-e him to find security for tlie maintenance of hi» 
Iwni-cliildren, wlioin he. was not perniiltecJ '.o legitimate by a niari'iagf 
vnh their mother 



iJ3 LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS. 

His reception IVoin inou of letters, in general, was Hat- 
lerina:. Pr. llobertson. Dr. JMair, Dr. Gregory, Mr. Stew- 
lut, ^Ir. ^liUvenzie, and ]Mr. Frazer Tytler, perceived and 
acknowledged his talents. He was an acceptable guest in 
the gayest and most elevated circles, and received from 
female beauty and clegai\ce, those attentions above all oth- 
ers most gratefid to him. Among men of rimk and fashion, 
he was particularly distinguished by James, carl of Glen- 
cairn, who introduced him to the notice and the convivijil 
society of the Caledonian Hunt. But while he was iixvited 
into the company of men of virtue and t^iste, he was also 
seduced, by pressing solicitations, into the fellowship of 
those whose habits, without being extremely gross, were 
yet too licentious and dissolute. The festive indulgences 
Which he enjoyed among them, gradually deprived him of 
his relish for the temperate and austere virtues. But what- 
ever inliuence tliis change produced on lus conduct and 
morals, his understimding sutfered no correspondent debjise- 
ment. He estimated his new friends and associates at their 
proper value ; and manifested groat discrimination in ap- 
preciating the ch;u-acter of those who imagined themselves 
men of the iirst order in the walks of literature imd 
fashion. 

♦' There are few of the sore evils uiuUn- the •^mi,"* he ob- 
serves, " give mo more uneasiness and chagrin, than the 
comparison how a man of genius, nay, of avowed worth, 
is received every wiiere, Avith the reception which a mere 
ordinary character, decorated with the trappings and futile 
distinctions of fortune, mect^. I inuigine a man of abiU- 
ties, liis breast glowing Aviih honest pride, conscious that 
men arc born pqual, still giving ' honor to whom hMW>r is 
due ; ' he meets, at a great man's table, a Squire Somctl\ing, 
or a Sir Sonu^body ; he knows the noble huidlord, at heart, 
gives tlie bard, or whatever he is, a share of lus gooa 
wishes, beyond, perhaps, ai\y one at the table ; yet how 
^^ill it mortify him to sec a fellow, whose abilities would 
Bciucely have made an eight-peruiy tailor, tuid whose heart 



I-IFK OF ROUF.KT IJUIIN!',. 33 

\i not worth three iarthii gs, meet with attention jmtl no- 
tice, that arc withhekl I'roai the son of genius and poverty ! 

•♦The noble Glcncairu lias wounded nic to the soul here, 
because I dearly esteem, respect and love him. lie showed 
Bo m\ich attention — engrossing attention — one day, to tho 
only blockhead at table, (^the whole company consisted of 
liis lordship, dundcrpate, and myself,) that I was within 
half a ])()iut of throwing down my gage of contemptuous 
delinnce ; but he shook my hand, and looked so benevo- 
lently good at parting, — God bless him ! though I should 
never see him more, I shall love him until my dying day ! 
1 iiin ])lcased to think I am so capable of the throes of 
gratitude, as I am miserably delieient in some other 
virtues. 

" With Dr. Blair I am more at my case. I never respect 
him with humble veneration ; but when he kizidly interests 
himself in my welfare, or still more, when ho descends 
from lus pinnacle, and meets mo on equal ground in con- 
versation, my heart overflows with what is called liking. 
AM\cn he neglects me for the mere carcass of greatness, or 
■wlicn his eye measures the difl'ercnce of our points of ele- 
vation, 1 say to myscU'i witli scarcely any emotion, what 
do I care for him or his pomp either ? 

"It is not easy forming an exact judgment of any one; 
but, in my opinion, Dr. lUair is merely an astonishing 
proof of what industry and application can do. Natural 
parts like his are freciuently to be met with ; liis vanity is 
})roverbially knoAvn among his ac(iuaintancc ; but ho is 
justly at the head of what may bo called line writing ; and 
H critic of tho lirst, tho very first, rank in prose : even in 
poetry, a bard of nature's making can only take tho pa$ 
of him. lie has a heart, not of tho very finest water, but 
far from being an ordinary one. In short, ho is truly a 
worthy and most respectable character." 

The respect and sjinpathy of lUirns dwelc with keener 
emotion aui more intense interest on the fate of Terguson, 
than on the intercourse which he held with persons of dis 



>?4 LIFE OF ROBF.RT BURNS. 

tinction. On the Gth of Febniary, 1787, he addressed a 
letter to the bailies of Canongnte, Edinbiirgh, requesting 
I^ermission to erect a moninnent to his memory. " Gcntle- 
nien," said he, " I am sorry to be told tliat the remains of 
Ilobcrt Ferguson, the so justly celebrated poet, a man 
■whose talents, for ages to come, \vill do honor to our Cale- 
donian name, lie in your church-yard, among the ignoble 
(lead, imnoticed and unkno-vvn. Some memorial, to direct 
the steps of the lovers of Scottish song, -when they wish 
to shed a tear over the narrow house of the bard who is 
no more, is surely a tribute due to Ferguson's memory — a 
tribute I wish to have the honor of paying. I petition you, 
then, gentlemen, to permit me to lay a simple stone over 
his revered ashes, to remain unalien?ble property to his 
deathless fame." 

Ihn-ns, in consequence of this api>licntion. obtained leave 
to gratify his desii-e.* The inscription of the stone is as 
follows : — 



• A correspomlem of Burns, in alluding to this transaction, expresses 
himself in this manner: " So you have obtained liberty from the magis- 
trates to erect a stone over Fergnson's grave? 1 do not doubt it; such 
things have been, as Shakspeare says, ' in the olden time ; ' 

'The poet's fate is here in emblem slunvn, 
He asked for bread, and lie received a stone.' 

It is, I believe, upon poor Butler's tomb that this is written. But how 
many poor brothers of Parnassus, as well as poor Butler and jioor Fer- 
guson, have asked for bread, and been served with the same sauce! 

"The magistrates gave you liberty did they? O, generous niagis- 
tiales! ****** ^ celebrated over tlie three kingdoms for his public spirit, 
gives a poor poet liberty to raise a tomb to a poor poet's memory I Most 
generous! ****•*, once upon a time, gave that same poet the iniglity 
sum of eighteen pence for a copy of his works. l?ut liicn it must ba 
considered that the poet was at this lime absolutely starving, and be- 
sought his aid with nil the earnestness of hunger; and over and abova 
he received a •*•***•*, worth at least one-third of the value, iu 
exchange, but which, I believe, the poet afterwards very imgiateiully 
expunged." 



LIFK OF HOUKUT HUIINS, 35 

IIKUK LIICS ROBERT FliRH USON, I'OKT. 

Born Sopicinhv Glli, 1751 — Died Killi Oinohor, 1774. 

No spulptiir J msirltlo lifn-, nor iiumiiniis Ijiy, 
"No storied urn, nor aniiiialcd hnsi;" 

This simple sione dirocls pale Scoiia's way 
To pour hor sorrows o'er Iht I'oei's dust. 

On tlio other side of the stone is as follows : — 

" Ily special j;rant of tlie niiinaj^ers to Robert I?nrns, who erected thil 
itoiie, this burial place's to remain lor ever suered lo the memory d 
llobert Kertrusoa." 

Shortly after paying this mark of respeet to the ashes 
of a Icindred genius, he acquired, by the new edition of 
liis poonis, a sum of money more than suillcient for his 
present exigencies. lie therefore determiiied to gratify a 
desire he had long entertained, of visiting some of the 
most interesting districts of his native country. For this 
purpose, he left l*]dinburgh on the sixth of JNIay ; and iii 
the course of his journey "was hos])itably received at the 
houses of several gentlemen of worth and learning. After 
proceeding up the Tweed, through the counties of Rox- 
burgh and Selkirk ; jienetrating into England as far as 
Newcastle ; and crossing the island to Carlisle, he returned 
through Anan and Dumfries to Ayrshire, alter an absence 
of six months. 

It will easily be conceived with Avhat pleasure and prido 
he was received by his mother, his brothers and sisters. 
lie had left them poor, and comparatively friendless ; he 
returned to them high in public estimation and easy in his 
circumstances. lie returned to them, xmchangcd in his 
ardent affections, and ready to share -with them, to tho 
uttermost farthing, the pittance that fortune had be- 
stowed. 

Having remained vith them a few days, he proceeded 
again to Edinburgh, and immediately set out on a tour to 
the highlands. From tliis joiu-ney he returned to hLs rela- 
tions in his native coimtry, renewing his friendships and 
extending his acquaintimce. 



^G MTF, Ol- UOHKKT BUIl.NS. 

In August, he made another visit to Edinburj^h, -vvhenpe 
ho travelled in company Avith Mr. Adair, through Linlith- 
gow, Carron, Stirling, the vale o.t* Devon, and llarvieston. 
In a visit to Mrs. Bruce, of Clackmanau, a lady above 
ninety, the lineal ileseendant of that race Avhich gave tho 
Scottish throne its brightest ornament, his feelings were 
powerfully interested. Though idniost deprived of speech 
oy a paralytic ailection, she preserved her hospitality and 
iirbanity. She was in possession of the helmet and two- 
handed sword of her great ancestor, with wliich she con- 
ferred on lier two visiters the honor of knighthood, remark- 
ing, tliat she had a better right to confer that title than 
some people. 

At Dunfermline they visited the ruined abbey, and the 
abbey-church, now consecrated to Presbyteriiin worship. 
Here Mr. Adair mounted the cutty-stool, or stool of repen- 
tance, assuming the character of a i)onitent for fornication, 
wliile Burns, from the pulpit, addressed to liim a ludicrous 
reproof and exhortation, parodied froni that wliich had 
been delivered to himself in Ayrshire, where he had onco 
been one of seven who moimted tlie scat of shame to- 
getlrer. 

In the church-yard, two broad ilag-stoncs marked the 
grave of llobcrt Bruce, for whose memory Burns had a 
more thim common veneration. He knelt and kissed tho 
stone with sacred fervor, and heartily (^suus ut 7nos erat) 
execrated tho worse than Gotliic neglect of the first of 
Scottish heroes. He afterwiu'ds returned, with ^Ir. Adair, 
to Edinburgh by Kinross, (on the shore of Lochleven,) ;md 
Queen's ferry. 

These journeys, however, did not satisfy the ciuiosity 
of Burns. About the beginning of September, he again 
Bet out from the xnetropolis, on a.niore extended tovu to 
the highlands, in company with Mr. Nicol, assistiuit teacher 
in the lugh school. After passing through the heju't of 
that moiuitiiinouj division of their native country, tliey 
iiretched northw ards about ten miles beyond Inverness. 



LIFK or ItORKKT HUHNS. 37 

Tliore thoy bent their course cnstward, across the island, 
and returned by the shore of the German sea, to Edin- 
biir;;h. In tlie course of this journi^y, they visited a num- 
ber of remarkable scenes ; and the ii/iajjjination ot IJurns 
Avas constantly excited by the wild ami sublime ?conrry 
through -which he passed. 

Having settled with his publisher, in February, 1788, ho 
found himself master of nearly five hundred pounds, after 
discharging all his expen^^s. To his brother Gilbert, who 
had taken iipon him the support of their aged mother, and 
was struggling with many difhculties in the farm of Moss- 
giel, he immediately advanced two hundred pouads. "With 
the remainder he resolved on settling himself for lii'c in the 
occupation of agriculture, and took the farm of Ellisland, 
on the banks of the Nith, six miles above Dumfries, on 
which he entered at Whitsunday. 

"NVhen he had in this miinner arranged his plans for 
futurity, his generous heart turned to the object of his at- 
tachment ; and, listening to no considerations but those of 
honor and affection, he led her to the altar, and joined 
with her in a i)ublic declaration of marriage. Ilis notice 
of this event, to Mrs. Dunloj), is truly honorable to his 
feelings. <• When Jean found herself," says he, " as wo- 
men wish to be who love their lords, as I loved her nearly 
to distraction, wc took steps for a private marriage. Her 
parents got the hint, and not only forbade me her company 
and the house, b\it on my rumored West Indian voyage, 
got a warrant to put me in jail till I should find security 
in my about-to-bc paternal relation. You know my lucky 
reverse of fortune. On my cclatant return to Mauchlino, 
I was made very welcome to visit my girl. The usual 
consequences began to betray her ; and, as I was at that 
time laid up a cripple in Edinbm-gh, she was turned — lit- 
erally turned out of doors ; and I wrote to a friend to shel- 
ter her till my return, when our marriage was declared. 

IIi:il IIAITINKSS oil MlSKliY AVAS TX MY HANDS ; AND WHO 
COULU TlUl'LK WITH SUCU A DIU'OSITK ? " 



38 



LIKE OK nODEKT BURNS. 



lie now engaged in rcbnikling the d^veLing-house on 
Ids farm, ^vilich, in the state he found it, was inadequate 
to tlie accommodation of his family. On this occasion, he 
resumed at times the occupation of a hiborer, and found 
neither his strength nor his skill impiiired. Pleased -with 
sm'veying the grounds he was about to cultivate, and M'ith 
rearing a habitation that might give shelter to Ms wife and 
children, and, as he fondly hoped, to his own gray hairs, 
Bentiinents of ii^dependence buoyed xip his mind ; pictures 
of domestic content and peace rose on his imagmation; 
and a few days passed away, the most tr^mquil, and per- 
haps the happiest he had ever experienced. 

His industry, however, was frequently interrupted by 
visiting his family in AjTsliire ; and, as the distance was 
too great for a single day's journey, he generally spent a 
night at an inn on the road. On such occtxsions, he some- 
times fell into company, and was drawn into ureguhu: and 
intemperate habits. His appointment in the excise, which 
was completed in autumn, 1789, likewise obstructed liis 
agricultural pursiuts. He was unable to reconcile the busi- 
ness of the two occupations. His farm was in a great 
measure abandoned to liis servants, while he was engaged 
in performing his official duties. He might be seen, now 
and then, in the spring, directing his plough, a lal or in 
■which he excelled ; or with a wliite sheet, cojitainiiig liis 
seed-corn, slung across liis shoulders, striding with meas- 
ured steps along his turned-up furrows, and scattering the 
grain in the earth. But his farm no longer occiqucd the 
principal part of his thoughts. It was not at EUishmd 
that he was now m general to be found. I^Iounted on 
horseback, this high-minded poet was piu-suing the deiault- 
ers of the revenue, among the hills and vales of Nithsdale, 
his roving eye wandorhig over the charms of nature, and 
muttering lus waj-ward fjuicies as he moved along. 

Besides his duties in the excise, other circumstances in- 
terfered with his attention to his farm. He engaged in the 
formation and management of a society for purchasing and 



1.JKK OF KOIlKirr I5UK.NS. i59 

circulating books ;uuon;i; the larnirrs ol" his neighborhood; 
iu\d occasionally occupieil hiinself in composing sonj^s tor 
the musical work of Mr. Johnson, thou in the course of 
publication. '.I'hc«e engagonjonts, though useful and hon- 
orable, necessarily contributed to the abstraction of his 
though .s, and the neglect of his rural all'airs. 

The consetiuences may easily be imagined. Notwith- 
standing the prudence and good management of Mrs. 
Burns, he found it necessary, after the cxjiiration of three 
years and a half, to rcliiuiuish his lease. His employment 
in the excise originally produced tifty pounds per annum, 
lie was now appointed to a new district, the emolumcnta 
of which rose to about seventy. lIoi)ii\g to support him- 
self and his family on this humble income, till promotion 
should reach him, he removed to a small house in Duin- 
nics, about the end of the year 1791. 

His great celebrity made luia an object of interest and 
curiosity to strangers, and few persons passed through 
Dumfries without an attempt to see him, antl to enjoy 
the pleasure of his c(^nversation. As he could not receive 
them conveniently at home, these interviews passed at tho 
inns of the town, and often terminated in convivial ex- 
cesses. Anu)ng the inhabitants, also, there were never 
wanting persons to lead or accompany him to the tavern ; 
to api)laud the sallies of his wit ; and to witness at once 
the strength and tlie degradation of his genius. 

In the four years that he lived in Dumfries, he produced 
many of his beautiful lyrics ; and cheerfully consented to 
give his aid to a collection of original Scottish airs and 
verses, projected by George Thomson, of Edinburgh. Du- 
ring tills time, he made several excursions into the neigh- 
boring country. In one of these he passed through Glen- 
denwynes, a beautiful situation on the banks of the Dee, 
in company with Mr. Syme, and reached Kenmore, where 
they remained three days at the seat of Mr. Gordon. On 
leaving Kenmore for Gatehouse, they took the moor-road, 
where every tiling pres(>nted a wild and desolate aspect. 



40 LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS. 

The sky app.-'arccl to sympatliise Avith the drcariiicss of the 
soih It becarae lowering and dark. Gleams of sheeted 
lightning were followed by the awful rolling of thxmder. 
Burns spoke not a word, but seemed wrapped in medita- 
tion. In a little while the rain began to fall ; and, for tliree 
hours, it poured in torrents on the waste. In the midst 
of this storm, though drenched as it were by the enabattled 
elements, he remained absorbed in thought, wholly inat- 
tentive to the descending floods. He was equally regard- 
less of every thing around him duiing his ride home from 
St. Mary's isle ; and his companion did not venture to dis- 
tm-b him. Next day he produced the celebrated marticd 
hjTtnn, entitled Robert Bruce's Address to his Army, a 
hjnnn unparalleled in the annals of modern poetry, and 
equal to the happiest efforts of the greatest geniuses of 
antiiiuity. 

Burns had entertained hopes of promotion ii\ the excise; 
but circumstances occurred which prevented their fuliil- 
ment. The events of the French revolution, which inter- 
ested the feelings of every thinking mind, were com- 
mented on by Burns in a manner very different from what 
might have been expected from an officer under govern- 
ment. Information of his sentiments were given to the 
boai-d of excise ; an inquiry was instituted into his con- 
duct ; and, after being reprimanded, he was suiFered to 
retain his situation. 

This circumstance made a deep impression on his mind. 
Fame exaggerated his misfortune, and represented liim as 
actually dismissed from his office ; and this report induced 
gentlemen of much respectability to propose a subscription 
in his favor. But he refused the offer w-ith. great elevation 
of sci\tinient, and nobly defended himseK againsi the im- 
putation of having made submission, for the sake of hia 
office, xmworthy of his character. 

"The partiality of my countrpnen," he observes, "has 
brought me forward as a man of genius, and has given me 
& chtu'acter to support. In the poet I have avowed maalj 



LIKE OK IIOBKRT BURNS. 



4! 



and indoi)cndont sentiments, ^vhich I hope have been 
Ibiuid in the n\an. lleasons of no less weight than the 
Biipport of a wife and children, have pointed my present 
occupation as the only eligible line of life within my reach. 
Still my honest fame is my dearest concern, and a thou- 
sand times have I trembled at the idea of the degrading 
epithets that malice or misrepresentation may affix to my 
name. Often, in blasting anticipation, have I listened to 
some future hackney scribbler, with the heavy malice of 
Bavage stupidity, exultingly asserting, that Ihirns, notwith- 
standing the fanfaronade of independence to be found in 
liis wor'.s, and after being held up to public view, and to 
public estimation, as a man of some genius, yet, quite des- 
titute of resources within himself to support his borrowed 
dignity, dwindled into a paltry exciseman, and slunk out 
the rest of his insigniRcant existence in the meanest of 
pursuits, and among the lowest of mankind. 

" Ir your illustrious hands, sir, permit me to lodge my 
strong disavowal and deliance of such slanderous falsehoods. 
Burns was a took man trom his iurth, and an exciseman 

BY NECESSITY ; BUT— I WILL SAY ix!— THE STEKLINO OP 
HIS HONEST WORTH, POVERTY COULD NOT DEJIASE, AND HIS 
INDEPENDENT BlllTISH SPIIUT, OPPRESSION MIGHT BEND, BUT 
COULD NOT SUBDUE." 

It was one of tlie last acts of his life to copy this heart- 
rending letter into a book which he kept for the purpose 
of recording such circumstances as he thought worthy of 
preservation. Upwards of a year before Ids death, there 
was an evident decline in his personal appearance; and 
though his appetite continued unimpaired, he was himsoLf 
scnsil)lc that his constitution was sinking. From October, 
1795, to the January following, an accidental complaint 
confined him to the house. A few days after he began to 
go abroad, he dined at a tavern, and returned home about 
three o'clock in a very cold morning, benumbed and intox- 
icated. This was followed by an attack of rheumatism, 
which confined him about a week. His appetite began to 
4* 



42 LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS. 

fail, his Kand shook, and his voice faltered on any exertion 
or emotion ; his pulse became weaker and more rapid, and 
pain in the larger joints, and in the hands and leet, de- 
prived him of sleep. In the month of June, 1796, he re- 
moved to Brow, in Annandale, about ten miles from IHim- 
frics, to try the effects of sea-bathing. Here ho was invited 
to dinner by a lady in the neighborhood ; and, as he w as 
unable to walk, she sent her carriage for him to the cottage 
where he lodged. As he entered her apartment, the stamp 
of death seemed imprhited on his features. He appeared 
already touching the brink of eternity. His iirst saluta- 
tion was, '* Well, madam, have you any. commands for the 
other world ? " He ate little, and complained of having 
entii-ely lost the tone of his stomach. He spoke of his 
death without any of the ostentation of philosophy, bui; 
with firmness and feeling, as an event likely to happen 
very soon. His anxiety for his family hung heavy upon 
him ; and when he alluded to their approaching desolation, 
his heart was touched with pure and unmingled sorrow. 

At first he imagined that bathing in the sea had been 
of benefit to him ; the pains in his limbs were relieved ; 
but this was immediately followed by a new attack of 
fever. When brought back to his own house in Dumfries, 
on the ISth of July, he was no longer able to stand up- 
right. A tremor pervaded his frame ; his tongue was 
parched, and his mind fell into a delirium, when not 
roused by conversation. On the second and tliird day 
the fever increased, and his strength diminished. On the 
fourth, the sufferings of tliis great, but ill-lated, genius 
were terminated ; and a life was closed, Avhich had been 
embittered by suflering, and insulted by unmerited cal^ 
immy. 

"Wlicn his death was known, it excited a deep and 
mournful sensation. It was felt as a loss which no earthly 
power could replace ; as the extinction of a prodigy whose 
appearance was rare and \mcertain. He was lamented, 
not merely lilce a common individual, by friends and neigh* 



JLIFE OK ROBKRT MUKNS. fl.l 

bors, but by a wliole country, Avhosc pleasures he had an 
exchisivc capacity to aujj;incnt. 

lie left a widow and lour sons. The ceremonial of hia 
intcrnirnt was accompanied with military honors, not only 
by the corps of Dumfries volunteers, of which ho was a 
member, but by the Fenciblc infantry, and a regiment of 
Ciufiuc Port cavalry then (quartered in Dumfries. On the 
same day, by a couicidencc singularly touching, Mrs. 
Burns was delivered of a son, who did not long survive 
his father. 

Burns was nearly five feet ten inches in height, and of 
a form that indicated agility as well as strength. His 
well-raised forehead, shaded with black, curling hair, ex- 
pressed uncommou capacity. His eyes were large, dark, 
full of ardor, and animation. His face was well-formed, 
and his countenance strikingly interesting. 

Of his general behavior, every one spoke in the highest 
terms. It usually bespoke a mind conscious of superior 
talents, not however unnuxed with the affections which 
beget familiarity and aifability. Ilis conversation wa3 
extremely fascinating ; rich in wit, humor, whim, and 
occasionally in serious and apposite rellection. No man 
had a (quicker apprehension of right and wrong, or a 
stronger sense of what was ridiculous and mean. Neither 
chicanery nor sordidness ever appeared in his conduct 
Even in the midst of distress, while his feeling heart sunk 
under the secret consciousness of indigence, and the apprc- 
liensions of absolute want, he bore himself loitily to the 
world. He died in tlic utmost penury, but not in debt ; 
and left behind him a name which will be remembered as 
long as departed worth and goodness arc esteemed among 
men. 

After contemplating the melancholy story of his liib, it 
is impossiljlc not to heave a sigh at the asperity of hia 
fortune, while wc reprobate the conduct of those who drew 
nim from the sunplicity of humble life, and lel"t him a prey 
to anxictv and want, to sorrow and despair. 



i«l MIK OK ROBF.KT KORRS. 

Of lus i>oo!us, \vUuh liavo boon so oftou printed and so 
engorly roml, it is iiiini\'css;try to oiitor into a critical ox- 
nminalioii. All rrnJors of taste and sensibility assign him 
the lirst j^lare amoun' the poets of liis country; and ac- 
knowledge the i)reseucc of that •* light from heaven " whicL 
c<3iisecruf,C8 and cLeruizcs every nionuiueut o.'" geiiiiw, 



P II l^ P A C K 

TO Til K VI 11 ST EDITION. 



'1 m: followiii;^' trillos ar<; not tho i)roduction of the poot 
wlio, with all tho u(lviintii^;(«H of learned art, uiul pcrhajia 
niiiiil the defiances and idleness of u])per life, looks down 
for a rural theme, with an eye to TheoerituH or Virgil. 
To the author of tlus, these and other eelelirated names, 
their cHiuntrymeu, are, at least in their orij^inal lan}^na;^c, 
a fountain sliut up, and a book sealed. Unaecpiuinted with 
tho neeessary re([uisites for eoninienein<jj poetry by rule, 
he sinj^s tho sentijnents and manners he felt and naw in 
liimsrif, luul his rustie eompeers around him, in his and 
their native lanj^uaj^c^ Thouj^h u rhymer from his carlieht 
years, at least from the earliest impulses of the softer pas- 
sions, it was not till very lately that tho applause, perhaps 
tho partiality of friendship, wakened his vtmity so far as 
to nuike him thiidc any thing of his worth showing ; and 
none of tho following works were eomposcd with a view 
to the press. To amnso himself with tho little ereations 
of his own faney, amid tho toil and fatigues of n laborion* 
life ; to transcribe the various feelings, tho loves, tho griefs, 
the hoi)es, the fears, in his own breast ; to lind some kind 
of eounti-rpoisc to the struggles of a world, always an alien 
seene, a task nneouth to the jioetieal mind, — these woro 
his motives for courting the muses, and in these he found 
roetiytobe its own reward. 

Now that ho appears in the i^nbliu character of ua au 



iC) 



thor, lie docs it '<Avith fear and trembling." So dear is 
tame to the rhyming tribe, that even he, an obscure, name- 
less bard, shrinks aghast at the thought of being brand- 
ed as an impertinent blockhead, obtruding his nonsense 
on the world ; and, because he can make a shift to jingle 
a few doggerel Scotch rh}-mcs together, looking iipon him- 
self as a poet of no small conse(inence, forsooth. 

It is an observation of that celebrated poet, Shenstonc, 
whose divine elegies do honor to our language, our luUion, 
and our species, that " IRimility has depressed many a 
genius to a hermit, but never raised one to fame ! " If 
any critic catches at, the word genius, the author tells him, 
once for all, that he certainly looks upon himself as pos- 
sessed of some poetic abilities, otherwise his publishing in 
the manner he has done, would be a manoeuvre below the 
worst character which, he hopes, his worst enemy will 
ever give him. Jhit to the genius of a Kamsay, or the 
glorious dawnings of the poor, unfortunate Ferguson, he, 
with equal unaffected sincerity, declares, that, even in his 
highest pvilse of vanity, he has not the most distant pre- 
tensions. These two justly-admired Scotch poets he has 
often had in his eye in the following pieces ; bxit rather 
with a view to kindle at their flame, than for sen'ile imi- 
tation. 

'J'o his subscribers, the author returns his most sincere 
thanlvs, — not the mercenary bow over a counter, b\it the 
heart-throbbing gratitude of the bard, conscious how much 
he owes to benevolence and friendship, for gratifying him, 
if he deserves it, in that dearest wish of every poetic bos- 
om — to be distinguished. He begs his readers, particu- 
larly the learned and the polite, who may honor him with 
a perusal, that they will make every allowance for educa- 
tion and circiimstances of life ; but, if, after a fair, candid, 
and impartial criticism, he shall stand convicted of dull- 
ness and nonsense, let him be done by as he would in that 
case do by others ; — let Mm be condemned, ^^'ithout mercy 
to contempt and oblivion. 



n K n I C A T I O N 

TO THE SEC()^M> EDITION. 

ro niR Noni.r.MF.x and okvtlkmkx of the caledoniam 
in'NT. 

J\Ti/ IjOrds and CoiUnncv : — 

A Scottish hard, iivoiul of the name, and whose highest 
ninbition is to sin.2; in his co^intry's^sorvice — -where shall 
lie so properly look for patronage, as to the illustrious 
names of his native land ; those who bear the honors and 
inherit the virtues of their ancestors ? The poetic genius 
of my country found me, as the ]n-ophetic bard, Elijah, did 
]']]isha — at the ph-)ngh ; and threw her inspiring mantle 
over mc. She bade me sing the loves, the joys, the rural 
scenes, and rural pleasures, of my native soil, in my native 
tongue ; I tuned my wild, artless notes, as she inspired. 
She whispered me to come to this ancient metropolis of 
Caledonia, and lay my songs under your honored protec- 
tion. 

Though much indebted to your goodness, I do not ap- 
proach you, my liOrd.s and Gentlemen, in the usxxal stylo 
of dedication, to thank you for past favors. That path is 
BO liackncycd by prostituted learning, that honest rusticity 
is ashamed of it. Nor do I present this address with the 
venal soul of a servile author, looking for a continuation 
of those favors : I was bred to the plough, and am inde- 
pendent. I come to claiin the common Scottish name with 
y3u, my illustrious coimtrjTnen ; and to tell the world thai 



48 DEDICATIOPr. 

I glory in the title. I come to congratulate my country 
that the blood of her ancient heroes still rnns uncontami- 
nated ; and that from your courage, knowledge, and pub- 
lic spirit, she may expect protection, ■\\ealth, and liberty. 
In the last place, I come to proffer my wannest wishes to 
the great Fountain of honor, the Monarch of the Universe, 
for your wcliiaro and happiness. When you go forth to 
waken the echoes, in the ancient and favorite amtisement 
of your forefathers, may Pleasm-e ever be of your party, 
and may social Joy await your return ! When harassed 
in courts or camps with the jostlings of bad men and bad 
measures, may the honest consciousness of injured worth 
attend your return to your native seats ; and may domestic 
Happiness, with a smiling welcome, meet you at your 
gates ! May corrui)tion shrink at youi* kindling, indignant 
glance ; and may tyranny in the ruler, and licentiousnesa 
in the people, equally find you an inexorable foe ! 
I hafe the honor to be, 
With the sincerest gratitude, 
AjkI highest respect, 

My Lords and Gentlemen, 

Your most devoted, humble servant, 

IlOBEliT BUKNS. 
fiilmonrirh, J 
April 4, 17b?. J 



BUllI^S'S POEMS. 



POEMS, 

C 11 I i: V L V SCOTTI H i\, 
BOOK I. 

MORA!., IIKMOIOUS, AND rilFX'ElTIVE. 



Tin-: TWA DOGS. 

A TALE. 

TwAS in that place o' Scot.lan(r3 isln, 
That hears the name o' Auld Kin<,' Coil, 
Upon a honny day in Jtino, 
When woarinj^ tiiro' tho afiftrnoon, 
Twa dorrs that woro na thiaiijnr at haino, 
For;r;U,licr'd ancc upon a tini(\ 

'I'ho first I'll namo, they ca'd him Cjrsarj 
Was koo[)it for his Honor's picasuro ; 
His hair, his kIzo, his mouth, his \utrH, 
Show'd he was nano o' Scotland's dofi^a ; 
I^ut whalpit some place far ahroad. 
Where sailors ganjr to fish for cod. 

Ilis locked, lottor'd hraw hrass collar, 
Show'd him the {rcntleman and scholar ; 



52 BUUMj's I'or.MS 

]?iit tlio' ho was o' hi<^h degree, 
The lient a pride nae pride had lie ; 
But wad hae spent an hour caressiii', 
Ev'n wi' a ti]dier-j,nj)sey's iiiessin: 
At kirk or market, mill or smiddio, 
Nae tautcd tyke, tlio' e'er sae duddie, 
But he wad stan't, as glad to see liiin, 
And stroan't on stanes an' liillocks wi' hiti 

The tithcr was a ploughman's collie, 
A rhyming, ranting, raving billie, 
Wha for his friend an' coim-ade had him, 
And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him, 
A Her some dog in Highland sang,* 
Was made lang syne — Lord knows how lang 

He was a gash an' faithful tyke. 
As ever lap a shcugh or dyke, 
His honest, sonsie, baws'nt face, 
Ay gat him friends in ilka place. 
His breast Avas white, his touzie hack 
Wool clad wi' coat o' glossy hhick ; 
His gawcie tail, wi' npward curl, 
Hung o'er his hurdies wi' a swirl. 

Nae doubt but they were fain o' it.her. 
An' unco pack an' thick thegithor ; 
Wi' social nose whyles snufi'M and snow kit., 
Whyles mice and moudieworts they howkit , 
Whyles scour'd awa in lang excursion, 
An' worry'd ither in diversion ; 
Until wi' dalHn weary grown, 
Upon a knowe they jSat them down, 

♦ Cuiliullin's clotj- in Ossia;'.'!; F.ny^iil. 



53 



And tfi(?ro l)oj>^an a laiifr difrrosriion 
About the Lords o' the Crciitioii. 



I've nflcn wondered, honest Limth, 
What sor^ o' life poor dof^.s like you have; 
An' when tho gentry's life I hhv^ 
What way poor bodies liv'd ava'. 

Our Laird ^ets in his racked rents, 
His coals, liis kain, and a' liis stents : 
He rises when he likes hiinscl' ; 
Ilia flunkies answer at the hell ; 
He ca's his coacli, he ca's his horse ; 
He draws a bonie silken purse 
As lanjjf's my tail, where, thro' the stoeks, 
Tiie yc;llow-hjtl,(!r'(l (rcordii; k<>eks. 

Frao morn to e'en it's noujrht hut toiling-, 
At bakin<r, roastin^r, frying, boil inj^ ; 
An' tho' tho gentry first are stechin, 
Yet e'en the ha' folk fill their pcchin 
Wi' sauce, ragouts, an<l sic like trashtrie, 
That's little short o' downright wastrie. 
Our Whii)per-in, wee blastit wonuor. 
Poor worthless elf, it eats a dinner, 
JJetter than ony tenant man 
His Honor has in a' the Ian'; 
An' what poor cot-folk pit their paincli in, 
I own its past my comprehension. 



Trowth, (^rnsar, whyles they're fasht enough 
A cotter howkin in a sheugn, 
Wi' dirty stanes begin a dyke, 

5* 



64 



J>oring a (luarry, aiul sic like. 

IJiinscl, a wife, lie tlms sustains, 

A eniytrie o' wee diiddie woans, 

An' nouj^lil but his haiul ddvg, to keep 

Tlieiu right unci light in thack au' rape. 

As when they meet willi sair disasters, 
Like loss o' health, or want o' masters, 
Ye luaist wad think, a woe touch langer. 
An' they maun starve o' cauld an' hunger; 
JJut, lu)W it comes, 1 never keiuTd yet. 
They're maistly woiuleii'u' contented ; 
An' buirdly duels, and clever hizzies, 
Are bred in sic a way as this \s. 



JJut then to see how yo're negleckit, 
How huir'd, and cutf'd, and disrespeckit ! 
L — d, man, our gentry care as little 
For delvers, ditchers, an' sic cattle ; 
They gang as saucy by poor folk, 
A I wad by a stinking brock. 

I've noticed, on our Laird's court-day. 
An' mony a time my heart's been wae. 
Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash, 
IIow they maun thole a factor's snash : 
He'll stamp and threaten, curse and swear, 
He'll apprehend them, poind their gear ; 
While they maun stan', wi' aspect liumblo, 
An' hear it a', an' fear, an' tremble ! 

I see how folks live that /lae riches ; 
But surely poor folk maun be wretches ! 



LUATII. 

Tln*y're iiae siio wnitchod's nno wutl lliink , 
Till)' constantly on jjoortitlt's brink : 
They're sae accustoni'd wi' the siy^lit, 
Tlie view o't gios them little iri<i^ht. 

Then cliancc and fortnno are sao j[;uidcd, 
'J'hey're ay in Icsa or niair providtul ; 
An', tlw' tatigu'd with close eiuploymoMt, 
A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment. 

The dearest comfort o' their lives, 
Their grushie weans an' faithfu' wives ; 
The prwttling things are just their pride, 
That sweetens a' their tire-side. 

An' whyles twalpennie worth o' nappy 
Can make the bodies unco liappy; 
They lay aside their private cares, 
To mind the kirk and state affairs; 
They'll talk o' patronage and priests, 
Wi' kindling fury in their breasts, 
Or tell what new taxation's comin', 
An' ferlie at the folk in Lon'on. 

As bleak-faced Hallowmas returns, 
They get the jovial, ranting kirns, 
When rural life, o' every station. 
Unite in common recreation: 
Love blinks. Wit slaps, and social Mirth 
Forgets there's Cato upo' the earth. 

That merry day the year begins, 
Tiiey bar tiio door on frosty winds ; 



56 imiiiNs's i'()km;«. 

Tho iiiippy rodks, wi' iniuit.liii«( roam, 
An' hIioiIs II hoiut-inspirin;*' Hloiim ; 
Tho luntin pipe, an' sikm'sIuu mill. 
Arc haiKhul round wi' ri;;ht *:<;\n\c will; 
Tho cantio aiild folks cnvckin cronso, 
Tho younj; iinrs mntiiifj^ thro' tho hoiiso 
My lioart lias been sao fain to soo thoir 
Tliat I for joy hao harkit wi' them. 

Still itVs owro truo Hint yo luio said, 
Sic j^amo is now owro ailoii playod. 
TIum'o'h monio a croditahlo stock 
O' docont, lionost lawsont folk, 
Aro rivon oiJt, h.iilh root imd hraiich, 
Somo rascal's |)ri(irii' nicod to (HUMicli. 
W'liii lliinks to knit himsol the faster 
In I'avor >vi' somo n;(>iitlo Mast(n*, 
Wha, aihlins, thrann; a-parliamontin, 
i'^or nrilain's jrnid his s;»ul inthMitin 



Ilailh, lad, yo liltlo ken about it. 
For Britain's j:fuid! jyuid faith! I iloubt it; 
Say, rather, j»"aun as l*romiorH Uvul him. 
An' sayiujT (v/e or no 's thoy bid him : 
At operas an' plays pjM-adinijf ; 
Mortj*'a<]rin,i,s jj^ambrmjif, masciuerading" ; 
Or, n»ay hv, in a frt)lic dall, 
To lla;jfuo or C^alain takes a wafl; 
To mako a tour, an' tak a whirl, 
To lenrn hoti Ion an' see the worl'. 

Th(M-i\ at Vienna or Versailles, 
lie rives his father's auld entrails; 
Or by Madrid he takes the rout 



iu;kn:s's i'ok.^is. Sf7 

To tliniin ^■iiiliii-M, mid fc.'clit vvi' mnvt ; 

Or down Iliili.'in vintii starflcH, 

Wli n!-lniiitiii<^ niiioM^ <;'i-()VOH o' iiiyrtloB 

TIh'ii l)oiiscH (liuiiil)Iy (lorriiiiii vviit(!r 

'I'o mill; JiiiiiMcl look la.r iiiid fiitl.ttr, 

An' cl»!!ir tli(3 <;()iiH(!(nnjiil,ijil HorrowH, 

Lovo-^ifls of Cjirnival Hi^'-iionw. 

For liritairi'n ^rtdd ! for liur doatniction ! 

Wi' disHipaiion, Ihiid, an' iiiction. 

I.UA'I II. 

Ilcch jnaii ! d(!ar nirs ! in iJint tho |n^atO 
Tlioy wnjsto Hao niony a braw ost,at(3 ? 
Aro wo Hao IbuyiliUMi an' luiraHH'd 
l''or {^oar to {j^aii^r that <^at,(! at, last,? 

( ), would tJioy Htay aback frao comtfl, 
An' |)N;aH(; tiioniHolvc^H vvi' connt.ra Hporta, 
Jt wad lor ov(;ry ano Ix; bctlcr, 
TIjo Ijaird, t,li(j 'r(Mia.nt,, an' t,li(j (Jottt'r ! 
For tluio frank, ranlin, rainhlin billicH, 
Fi(!nl liaot o' tboni'H ill-li(;arlod follows! 
JOxo(!|)t for broakin o' tlioir tiininor, 
Or Hpoakin lif^litly o' tlioii liinnior, « 

')r Hbootin o' a baro or moor-cock, 
Tlio nc'or a, bil Ibiiy'ro ill to poor folk. 

Milt, will yon tell mo, Mastor ConHar, 
Hiiro (,n-oat folk'n HIo'h fx lifo o' pioaHiiro ? 
Nao canld or liiinfr(!r n'or can Ht(;or llioin, 
Tbu vera tboiiirlit, o\ need na foar thonu 



L— d, man, wore yo but wbylos wbare I am, 
Tho gontles yo wad no'or onvy 'cm. 



5*^ BUUNS'S POEMS. 

It's truo, tliey need nae starve or sweat, 
Tliro' winter's caiild or simmer's lieat ; 
They've nae sair wark to craze tlieir banes, 
An' fill auld age wi' grips an' granes : 
But human bodies are sic fools, 
For a' their colleges and schools, 
That when nae real ills perplex them, 
Tiiey make enow themsels to vex them ; 
An' ny the less they hae to start them, 
In like j)roportion less will hurt them. 
A country-follow at the plough, 
His acres till'n, he's right enough ; 
A country girl at her wheel, 
Her dizzen's done, she's unco wool : 
IJut (xentlemen, and Ladies warst, 
Wi' ev'n down Avaut o' wark are curst. 
Tiiey loiter, lounging, lank, and lazy ; 
Tho' deil liaet ails theui, yet uneasy ; 
Their days insipid, dull, an' tasteless; 
, Their nights unquiet, lang, and restless : 
An' e'en tlieir sports, tlu3ir halls, an' races, 
Their galloping thro' public places. 
There's sic parade, sic pomp, an' art, 
The joy can scarcely reach the heart. 
The men cast out in party matches. 
Then sowther a' in deep debauches ; 
Ae night they're mad wi' drink an' wh-rinjj, 
Nicst day their life is past enduring. 
The ladies, arm-in-arui in clusters, 
As great and gracious a' as sisters ; 
But liear their absent thoughts o' ither, 
They're a' run deils an' jades thegither ! 
Whyles o'er the wee bit cup an' phitio, 
They sip the scandal potion pretty ; 
Or lee-lang nights, wi' crabbit leuks, 



I'oro uwre the devil's pictur'd beuks , 
Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard, 
All' cheat like oiiy unhang'd black<^uard. 

There's some exception, man an' woman , 
But this is fjentry's life in common. 

By this, the sun was out o' sight. 
An' darker gloaming brought the night. 
The bum-clock humm'd wi' lazy drone ; 
The kye stood routin i' the loan ; 
When up they gat,- and shook their lugs, 
Rejoiced they were nae men, but dogs; 
An' each took aii* his several way, 
Resolved to meet some ither day. 



THE BRIGS OP^ AYR 



Inscribed to J. fi*********^ Esq., ^ijr. 

The simple Bard, rough at the rustic plough. 

Learning his tuneful trade from every bough ; 

The chanting linnet, or the mellow thrush. 

Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green thorn bush 

The soaring lark, the perching red-breast shrill, 

Or deep-ton'd plovers, gray, wild-whistling o'er the mW 

Shall he, nurst in the peasant's lowly shed. 

To hardy independence bravely bred, 

By early poverty to hardship steel'd, 

And train'd to arms in stern Misfortune's field; 



50 KUniNS's POKIVia. 

JSluiU lie 1)0 guilty of their hireling' criinca, 
The servile, morcciuny Swiss of rhymes ? 
Or labor hard the panegyric close, 
With nil the venal soul of dedicating prose? 
No! though his artless strains he rudely sings. 
And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings, 
He glows with all the spirit of the IJard, 
Fame, honest fame, his great, his dear reward ! 
Still, if some patron's gon'rous care lie trace, 
Skill'd in the secret to bestow with grace; 
When n#**##*##* befriends his humble name, 
And hands the rustic stranger up to fame, 
With heart-felt throes his grateful bosom swells, 
The goillilu.' bliss, to give, alone excels. 



'Twas when the stacks get on their winter-hap, 
And thack and rape secure the toil-worn craj); 
Potato-bings are snugged up frao skaith 
Of coming Winter's biting, frosty breath; 
The bees, rejoicing o'er their summer toils, 
Unnumber'd buds an' flowers' delicious spoils, 
Seal'd up, witli frugal care, in massive Avax(Mi \n\c% 
Are doom'd by man, that tyrant o'er the weak. 
The death o' devils smoor'd wi' brimstone reek ; 
The thundering guns are heard on ev'ry side, 
"i'lie wounded coveys, reeling, scatter wide ; 
The featJicr'd field-mates, bound by nature's tie, 
Sires, mothers, children, in one carnage lie: 
(Wliat warm, poetic heart, but inly bleeds, 
And execrates man's savage, ruthless deeds !) 
Nao mair the tlow'r in field or meadow springs; 
Nae mair the grove with airy concert rings, 
FiXcept, perhaps, the robin's whistling glee, 
Proud o' Uie height o' some bit half-land tree 



iiurnh's rOKMS. Gl 

Tlio lioiiry nionis j)rocedo Iho suniiy (lays, 

Mild, calm, sorcno, wide spniiid.s t.ho noon-tido blaze, 

VVhilo thick the ^'•ossamoiir wiivi;^ wanton in tlio rays, 

'TwaH in ihiit acaHon, when a siin|)l(3 bard, 

Uidinown and [)oor — Hiniplicity's reward; 

Ac ni^mt., witiiin tho ancient bnr^h of Ayr, 

}]y wliini inspirM, or haply prcss'd wi' (iJiro; 

lie lell liis bed, and took iiia wayward ronte. 

And down by iSinipKon's* wheel'd tho lell about: 

(Whether irnpell'd by all-dir(^ctin<,^ Fate, 

To witness what 1 aller shall narnite ; 

Or whether, rapt in meditation lii<j:h, 

]le wandered out, lie knew not where nor why;) 

The drowsy Dungeon-clockf liad nnnibor'd two. 

And Wallace Tow'rf had sworn tho fact was true: 

'J'he tide-swoln Firtii, with snlUm-soundinfr roar, 

Thr()n<;h the still ni<rht dash'd hoarse alon;L,'" the shore 

AH else was hush'd as nature's closed e'e ; 

'i'he silent moon shone ]ii<^h o'er tow'r and tree: 

The chilly frost, beneath the silver beam. 

Crept, «jently-crustin<^, o'er the fjlittering stream — 

When lo ! on either hand the list'ninf^ bard, 
'I'hc clan<(in<^ su^^li of whistlin;jf winds ho heard ; 
'J'wo dusky forms dart thro' the midni<rht air, 
Swift as tho (ios|: drives on tho wiieeliuf^ hare; 
Anc on tli Auld Brig his airy shape uproars, 
The ither flutters o'er the rising piers 
Our warlock rhymer instantly descry'd 
The Sprites that owre the Brigs of Ayr preside. 
(That bards are second-sighted is nae joke. 
And ken the Jingo o' Uie sp'ritual folk ; 



• A noted tnvcni nl iho Aukl Brig cml. f 'I'l'O Iwo slceiilcn t 'Vhn 
go.sliiiwk, (ir liilt oil. 

G 



S2 Buims's roKMS. 

Fays, SpunkioiS, Kolpios, a', tlicy can explain them, 

And cv'n tlio vera deils tlioy brawly ken them.) 

Auld ling appcar'd of ancient Pictish race, 

The vera wrinkles (Jotliic in his face: 

He s(^eni'd as he wi' Time had warstl'd huHf, 

Ycit tencjhly donre, he hade an unco banrr. 

Now Brier was huskit in a braw new co;it., 

That he, at Lon'on, frae nno Achnns, ^ot ; 

In's hand five taper staves as smooth's a head, 

Wi' virls an' whirly<ji<inms at the hoad. 

1'he Goth was stalking round with anxious search, 

Spyinof the time-worn flaws in ev'ry arch; 

It chanc'd his new-come necbour took his e'e, 

And e'en a vex'd and anjxry heart had he ! 

W'i' thiin'oless sneer to see his modish mien, 

Wo, down the water, <i'ives him this guid oVmi : — 

AII.P lUUO. 

I doubt na, frien', ye'll think ye'rc nae shof^ji-siiank 
A nee ye were streidiit o'er from bank to bank ! 
l>ut jjin ye be a briir as auld as me, 
Tho' faith, that day I doubt yc'll never see ; 
There'll be, if that date come, Til wad a boddle. 
Some fewer whigrmeleeries in your noddle 

m:w iuug. 

Auld Vandal, ye hut show yom* little niense, 
Just much about it wi' your scanty sense ; 
\V^ill your poor, narrow foot-path of a street. 
Where twa wheelbarrows tremble when they meet, 
Your ruiuM, formless bulk o' stane an' lime. 
Compare wi' bonie Brigs o' mcnlern time ? 
There's men o' ttiate would take the J)uckat stream,* 

' • A iiotod foril just al)ovo llie Aulil Ung. 



HIIRNS'S ]'(M;1VI3. (jTt 

Tho' thoy filionld cast tho vory R.irk nnd swim, 
Ero thoy would ji^i-ato t.lioir feoliiii,'-^ w'C tin) view 
O' sic iiti nrrly, (Jotliic liulk iih yoii. 

AUM) r.iiio. 

Conceited <^owk I piilT'd up wi' windy piido . 
Thin mony a year I'vo stood tli(3 flood an' tide ; 
An' tho' wi' crazy oild I'm sair forliiir.;, 
I'll Ix; a Hritc, whom yo'rc a shapidoss cairn! 
As yet yo iittlo kon about tho matter, 
lint twa-throo winters will inform yon i)ott.er. 
When heavy, dark, continu'd a'-day rains, 
Wi' dcep'ninf^ delnges o'crllow tlie plains ; 
\Vhcn from the hills whore springs the hrawlinn^ Coil^ 
Or stately Lu«rar's mossy fountains boil. 
Or where the Greenock winds his moorland course. 
Or hnunted CMrjjal* draws his feeble source, 
V\rons'd by bhist'rinrr winds an' spottint^ thowes, 
In many a torrent down his sna'broo rowes. 
While crashin;';' ice, borne on the roarinir speat, 
Sweeps dams, an' iiiills, an' brii.rs, a' to (ho '''Mto ; 
Aiifl from Glenbnck,t down to the Ratton-kcy,! 
Auld Ayr is just one lengthen'd, tumblin^^ soa ; 
'J'luMi down ye'll hurl — deil nor ye never rise! 
And dash the guinlie janps up to the pouring sk'ca : 
A lesson sadly touching, to yom* cost, 
U'liat Architecture's noble art is lost ! 

NF.W IJUIG. 

I'^'ine Architecture! trowth, I needs must say't o' 
The L — d be thankit that we've tint the gate o't ! 

• TliH hanks of fJarpjil Wuter is ono of llic few |)Iar(>.s in ilir Wvaz 
of Scotland, vvlR-n^ llioso fancy-scarin;,' lioiiifjs, known l>y ilu; naniL' ol 
Ijliaisis, still conlinno pnrtinacionsly lo inlinl)it. 

t Till! Koiirci; of tlic river Ayr. X A small laiidiiig-(ila('c iiliov« Ui» 
kiryc key. 



C4 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Giuint, ghastly, gliaist-allunng- odifices, 
Hanging with threat'ning jut, like precipices , 
O'cr-arching, mouldy, gloom-inspiring coves, 
(Supporting roofs fantastic, stony groves ; 
Windows and doors, in nameless vsculpture drc8t. 
With order, synunetry, or taste, nnblest ; 
Forms like some bedlam-statuary's dream, 
The craz'd creations of misguided whim ; 
Forms might be worshipp'd on the bended knee, 
And still the second dread command be free, — 
Their likeness is not found on earth, in air, or s(\x, 
Mansions that would disgrace the building taste 
Of any mason reptile, bird, or beast ; 
Fit only for a doited Monkish race. 
Or frosty maids, forsworn the dear embrace, 
Or Cuifs of latter times, wha held the notion 
Tiiat sullen gloom was sterling, true devotion; 
Fancies that our guid Burgh denies protection, 
And soon may tJiey expire, unbloss'd with resurrection 

A11M> UUIO. 

O ye, my dear-rcmcmbefd, ancient yealings, 
Were ye but here to share my Mounded feelings! 
Ye worthy Provcscs, an' mony a Bailie, 
Wha in the paths of righteousness did toil ay ; 
Ye dainty Deacons, and ye douce Convcencrs, 
To whom our moderns are but causey-cleaners ; 
Ye godly Councils wha hae blessM this town ; 
Ye godly Brethren of the sacred gown, 
Wha meekly gae your hurdles to the smite rs ; 
And (what would now be strange) ye godly writers 
A' ye douce folk I've borne aboon he broo, 
Were ye but here, what would ye say or do ? 
Mow would your spirits groan in deep vexation, 
To sec each melancholy alteration ; 



And nrroni7,in<if, curso the tiino nnd placo 
Who. J yo bo<jiit (lio l)aHo, dcn-en'nito men ! 
N;ic lnM<,n^r linv'rciid Men, iIkmi' coimlry'a /^lory, 
In i)liuii braid Scots lu)Id lortli a plain braid story 
Nao lajijrcr Uirifly Citizens, an' douco, 
Moot owre a pint, or in tlio Conncil-honso ; 
Hut stauuircl, corky-headed, graceless pontry ; 
The lierryinent and ruin of the country; 
Men, three parts made by tailors and by barbers, 
VVha waste your whecl-hain'd gear on d — d new Briga 
and Harbors ! 

NKW imiu. 

Now baud you there ! for faith ye'vo said onough, 
And inuck'.o niair than ye can make to through. 
Ah for your Priesthood, I shall say but little, 
("orbiea and Clergy arc a shot right kittle ; 
Hut under favor o' your langer beard, 
Abuse o' magistrates might wecl be apar'd ; 
To liken them to your auld warld squad, 
1 must needs say, comparisons are odd. 
In Ayr, wag-wits nae mair can hao a iiandle 
To mouth " a citizen," a term o' scandal : 
Nae mair the (council waddles down the street, 
In all the pomp of ignorant conceit: 
Men wha grew wise priggiu owre hops an' raisins, 
Or gather'd lib'ral views in Bonds and Seisins. 
If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp, 
Had shor'd them with a glimmer of his lamp, 
And would to Common-sense, for once betray'd tliem 
riain, dull Stupidity stept kindly in to aid them. 



What fartlier clisinnaclaver might been said, 
What bloody wars, if sprites had blood to shed. 
6* 



60 BURNS'S rOEMS 

No man can tell ; but all before their sight, 

A fairy train appear'^ in order bright : 

Adown tiie glittering stream they featly dancerl ; 

Bright to the moon their various dresses glanced ; 

They footed o'er the watVy glass so neat, 

The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet : 

While arts of minstrelsy among them rung, 

And soul-ennobling bards heroic ditties sung. 

O, had RI'Laughlan,* thairm-inspiring sage, 

Been there to hear this heavenly band engage, 

When through liis dear Strathspeys they bore with 

Highland rage ; 
Or Avhen they struck old Scotia's melting airs, 
The lover's raptur'd joys or bleeding cares ; 
IIow would his Highland lug been nobler lir'd, 
And ev'n liis matchless liand with finer touch inspir'd 
No gue^s could tell what instrument appear'd, 
But all the soul of Music's self was heard ; 
Harmonious concert rung in every part, 
While -simple melody pour'd moving on the heart 

The Genius of the Stream in trout appears, 
A venerable chief advanc'd in years ; 
His hoary head with water-lilies crown'd, 
His manly leg with garter-tangle bound. 
Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring, 
Sweet female Beauty hand in hand with Spring , 
Then, crown'd with llow'ry hay, came Rural Joy 
And Summer, with his fervid-beaming eye ; 
All-cheering Plenty, with her ilowing horn, 
Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn ; 
Then Winter's time-bleach'd locks did hoary show 
By Hospitality with cloudless brow. 

* A woU-known performer of Scottisli music on the violin. 



nUKNs's I'OKMH. 67 

N«>xt followM Coiinipfc witlj liis iniirtiiil stride, 

From wlicro tlic Foal wild-woody covorts hide; 

Boncvol(Mico, with mild, hoiiig-iuiiit air, 

A tomalo form,* camo from tlio tow'ra of Stair ; 

LcMriiiiijjc and Worth in c(\wi\ m(\'isnro.s trodo 

From sim])l(; Catriiu?, tluMr lon<^-lov'd abode; 

Last, white-rohM Peace, crown'd with a ha/ol wreatn, 

'J'o rustic Agriculture did bequeath 

*rhe broken iron instruments of Death ; 

At s'lghl of whom our S])rito3 forgat their kindling wrath. 



THE VISION. 

DUAN riRST.f 



The sun had clos'd the winter day, 
The curlers quat tlicir roaring piny, 
An' hungcr'd maukin ta'on her way 

To kail-yard.s green, 
While faithless snaws ilk 8t(!p bcUniy 

Where she has been. 

The thrasher's weary flingin-tree 
The lee-lang day had tired me ; 
And when the day had clos'd his c'c, 
Far i' ^ho west. 



• The pocl here iilhidiis to ii Mr.i. StcwMrl, who wu» tlion in ponm!*- 
•ioi) of Stair. Shu iillcrvvards rciiidvc'd to Al1<iii-h)<l^e, on ihc liiink»of 
the AlloM, u striain vvhicli lie huIjhi niH-iilly colehralcd in a song enlillud 
"Aflon VValcr.»'— Kd. 

t Dunn, u term of Ossiuii's for iho.didbreiit diviwoiis of a (l]»fro»«iv« 
poein. Sou his Cutli-Lodu, vol. ii. of Mucphuraou'ii trun.sluliuiL 



W BURNS'S POSMS. 

Ben i' tlie spence, right pensivelie, 
I gaed to rest. 

There, lanely, by the ingle-chcek, 
I sat and ey'd the spewing reek, 
That fill'd, wi' hoast-provoking smeek, 

The auld clay biggin ; 
An' heard the restless rattons squeak 

About the riggin. 

All in this mottie, misty clime, 
I backward mus'd on wasted time. 
How I had spent my youthfu' prime, 

An' done nae-thing, 
But stringin blethers up in rhyme, 

For fools to sing. 

Had I to guid advice but harkit, 
I might, by this, hae led a market, 
Or strutted in a bank an' clarkit 

My cash account : 
While here, half mad, half fed, half sarkit, 

Is a' th' amount. 

I started, mutt'ring, blockhead! coof! 
And heav'd on high my waukit loof. 
To swear by a' yon starry roof, 

Or some rash aith, 
That I henceforth "would be a rhyme-proof 

Till my last breath ; — 

When, click ! the string the sneck did draw 
And, jee ! the door gaed to the wa' ; 
An' by my inglerlowe I saw. 

Now bleezin bright, 



BUR.VSS POEMS. 

A tij^ht, outlandish Hizzio, braw, 
Come ful] in sight. 

Ye need nac doubt, I held my whieht; 
The infant aith, half-form'd, was crusht 
T glow'rd as ceric's I'd been dusht, 

In some wild glen ; 
When sweet, like modest Worth, she blusht, 

And stepped ben. 

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs 
Were twisted, g-racefu', round her brows ; 
I took her for some Scottish mi^se, 

By that same token ; 
An' come to stop thoSe reckless vows, 

Wou'd soon been broken. 

A " hair-brain'd, sentimental trace,** 
Was strongly marked in her face ; 
A wildly-witty, rustic grace 

Shone full upon her; 
Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space, 

Beam'd keen with honor. 

Down flow'd her robe, a Tartan sheen, 
Till half a leg was scrimply seen ; 
And such a leg! my bonie Jean 

Could only peer it ; 
Sae straught, sae taper, tight and clean, 

Nane else came near it. 

Her mantle large, of greenish hue, 
My gazing wonder chiefly drew ; 
Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw 
A lustre grand; 



70 BURNS's POEMS. 

Ami sooniM, to my nstonisliM view, 
A AvoU-kiiown hind ! 

llore, rivors in tlio soa w(mo lost ; 
Tliere, luoiintains to the skies wore tost; 
Here, tumblinjj^ billows inark'd the coast 

Witii siirf^injr foam; 
There distant shone Art's lofty boast, 

The lordly dome. 

Here, Dooti pour'd down his tar-fetchM floods 
There, well-fed Irvine stately thnds ; 
Auld lierniit Ayr staw tliro' his woods, 

On to the shore ; 
And many a lesser torrent scuds, 

With seeming roar. 

Low, in a sandy valley spread, 

An ancient Horou<;h rear'd her head; 

Still, as in Scottish story read. 

She boasts a race 
To ev'ry nobler virtne bred. 

And polish'd grace. 

By stately tow'r or palace fair, 

Or ruins |)end!int in the air, 

B()ld stems of heroes, here and there, 

I C(nil(l discern ; 
Some seemM to muse, some seeni'd to daro, 

\Vilh features steriL 

My \u\ni (lid i^lowini;- transport feel. 
To see a nice * heroic wheel, 

* The Walbu-os. 



HURNS'S I'OKMS. 71 

And brandisli round tlio doop-dy'd stcol 

In sturdy blowH ; 
While l)ark-r('C(>ilin<x .sroniM to roel 
'lMi<;ir Southron foea. 

His Country's Savior/ mark him well: 
IJoUl Richardton's t horoic svvull ; 
The chief on SarU | who jrlorious fell, 

In hi^rli command ; 
And UK whom ruthless Fates expel 

I lis native land. 

There, Avherc a sccptrM I'ictish shade § 
StalkM round its ashes lowly laid, 
I mark'd a martial race, portray'd 

In colors strong; 
JJold, soldier-fi^atur'd, undismay'd, 

Tlu!y strode a]on^^ 

Thro' many a wild, romantic grove,]! 

Near many a hermit-fancied cove, 

(Fit haunts for Friendship or for Love,) 

In musing mood, 
An aged Judge, I saw him rove, 

Dispensing good. 



• William Wulliicc. 1 Adtim Wallace, of Riclianlloii, cousin tc '.t« 
Iriiiimiiul pnisfirvor of Scottish iii<lo[)ciiil«!iico. 

J ^Vlll!ll(•o, laird of Craijic, who wuh hccoikI in cnmmund, under Douj^ 
hti4, carl of Orinoiid, at tliu faiiioUH liattlu on Uiu haiikK of Sark, iou^hl 
A I) M13. That jjlorioiis victory wan pniicipaliy owing to the judiciom 
eoiidiicl and intrepid valor of Ihc gallant laird of CragiOj who died of hia 
woiiiutH aAcr the action. 

S Coilus, kill*,' of tlic I'icts, from whom the district of Kylo is said to 
taku itH name, lies lniricd, u» tradition Kays, near the family-neat of Ui« 
MoiitifonicrieN of (^lil'N-field, wln-nt Iiim liiiriiil-pluce ih 8till uhuwn. 

U iiarskiinjiiiiig, the Hcat oi' the late Lord Jiutioo Clork. 



72 BURNS'S POEMS. 

With deep-struck, reverential awe,* 
The learned Sire and Son I saw ; 
To Nature's God and Nature's law 

They gave their lore ; 
This, all its source and end to draw 

That, to adore. 

Brydone's brave wardf I well could spy 
Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye, 
Who call'd on Fame, low standing by, 

To hand him on. 
Where many a patriot-name on high, 

And hero shone. 



DUAN SECOND. 

With musing-deep, astonish'd stare, 
1 view'd the heav'nly-seeming Fair ; 
A whisp'ring *,hrob did witness bear, 

Of kindred sweet. 
When, with an elder sister's air, 

She did me greet. 

All hail ! mv own inspir'd Bard ! 
In me tliy native muse regard ! 
Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard ! 

Thus Do«rly low ! 
I come to give thee such regard 

As we bestow. 

"Know, the great Genius of this isDd 
Has many a light, aerial band, 

* Catrme, the seat of the late doctor, aiid present professor. Siew&n 
t Colonel FuJlariou. 



BUKiNS's FOEM3. 73 

Who, all beneath his hifrh command, 

Harmoniously, 
As arts or arms they understand, 

Tljoir labors ply. 

"They Scotia's race among tliem share; 
Some fire the Soldier on to dare; 
Some rouse the Patriot up to bare 

(Corruption's heart ; 
Some teach the Uard, a darling care, 

Tlie tuneful art. 

"'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore, 
They ardent, kindling spirits pour ; 
Or, 'mid the venal senate roar, 

They, sightless, stand, 
To mend the honest patriot-lore. 

And grace the land. 

"And when the Bard, or hoary Sage, 
Charm or instruct the future age. 
They bind the wild poetic rage 

In energy ; 
Or point the inconclusive page 

Full on tlie eye. 

"Hence Fullarton, the brave and young; 
Hence Dempster's zeal-inspir'd tongue; 
Hence sweet, harmonious Beattie sung 

His ' minstrel lays ; ' 
Or tore, Avith noble ardor stung. 

The skeptic's bays. 

" To lower orders are assign'd 
The humbler ranks of human-kind. 
7 



74 ri'KNs's rOKMS. 

The rustic Bard, the lab'riut; hind, 

Tlio Artisan ; 
All rhiHiso, as various thoy'ro inclin'd, 

The various man. 

*'\VluMi yollow uavos tlio lu\-ivy grain, 
The throat'ninjx storni sonic strongly rein, 
Sonio teach to meliorate Uie plain. 

With tillage skill. 
And some instruct the shepherd train, 

Hlithe o'er the hill. 

"Some hiut the lover's harmless wile; 
Some grace the maiden's artless smile ; 
Some soothe the lah'rer's weary toil, 

For humble gains, 
And make his cottage-scenes beguile 

His cares and pains. 

" Some, boundoil to a ilistriot space, 
Explore at large man's intaiU race, 
To mark the embryotic trace 

Of rustic bard ; 
And careful note each op'ning grace, 

A guide tuul guard. 

*' Of these am I — Con ,\ my name; 

And this district as mine I claim, 

Where once the Campbells, chiets of fame, 

Held ruling pow'r: 
T markM thy embryo tunet'ul tliune, 

Thy natal hour. 

**Witli t'uture hope 1 otl would gaze. 
Fond, on tliv little early ways, 



jjt'KNs's ror.MH. 7i 

Thy rudoly ciirollM cliiiuiiif,' j)lira«o, 

In uiicotilli rliymoH, 
FirM 111. tlic Hiiiipld, jirlloH.s lays 

Of otlu'i- timort. 

" I Hinv (li(!o sook (.li(» H()uii(lin<j hIiofo, 
Dolifrhtcd with tlio dusliiiifr roar; 
ilr, wlicM tlio North lii.s lloocy Htoro 

Drovt! lliro' I ho Hky, 
I HMw <iriiii Natiirc'H visji^a; hour 

Struck thy yoiiiiyf oyo. 

"Or, vhcii lh(? (l(^op-«rrf'(Mi iimiithNl oartli 
Wiinn choriHhM ov'ry llow'n^tn birth, 
And joy iiiid nuisic poin-in^jf forth 

In ov'ry {^rovc;, 
I h;iw thi'o oyo tho o-(.|rnil n>irtl> 

With honndhiSH h>vo. 

"Wh<Mi riiMMiM fi(!hlH, and a/in'o skios, 
CallM forth tlic r('iip(?rH' rustlin;,' noiao, 
I saw thou loavo thoir ov(MiinH' joyn, 

And lonely Htiilk, 
To ViMJt thy boHoni'H Hwcllin^ riso 

In pcnnivo walk, 

" VVh(Mi yonthlnl h)vo, warni-hhjHhin«r, stroiiif 
KctMi-shiv'rinjj shot thy norvo« alonj^, 
Those aiHMMitM, nnitcfid to thy tonguo, 

Th' ador(Nl naiiu;, 
I tJinnlit thoo how to pour in Honjj, 

To Hoolh(i thy flanio. 

*' I Haw thy pnlMcs inachl'nin^ |day, 
Wild send thco pIoaHuro's dnviouH way^ 



76 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Misled by fiincy's inoteor ray, 
By passion driv'n ; 

But yet the li<^ht that led astray 

Was light from heaven! 

M taiiizht tliy niannors-i)aintiti2f strains, 
The loves, the ways of simple swains, 
Till now, o'er all my wide domains 

Thy fame extends : 
And some, the pride of Coila's plains. 

Become thy friends. 

"Thou canst not learn, nor can I show, 
To paint witli Thomson's landscape glow, 
Or wake tiie bosom-meltini:^ throe 

Witii Shenstone's art, 
Or {)our, with Gray, the movintr flow 

^Varm on the heart. 

"Yet all beneath the unrivalPd rose, 

The lowly daisy sweetly blows ; 

Tho' large the forests's monarch throws 

His army shade, 
Yet green the juicy iiawthorn grows, 

Adown the glade. 

*' Then never murmur nor repine ; 
Strive in thy lunnble sphere to shine j 
And, trust me, not Potosi's mine, 

Nor king's regard, 
Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine, 

A rustic bard ! 

" To give my counsels all in one, — 
Thy tuneful flame still careful fan* 



BURNS S POEMS. 

Preserve the Dir^nity of Man, 

Witli soul oioct ; 
And tnisf,, tlio Universal l*lan 

Will all protect! 

* And wear thou this ! " she solemn said, 
And bound the Holly round my head; — 
Tlie polish'd leaves, and berries red, 

Did rusllinj^ play ; 
And, like a passing th()U<^lit, she fled 

In light away. 



77 



THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 
Inscribed to R. ^****, Esq, 

Let not aml)ition mock their useful toil, 
Their homely joys ami destiny obscure; 

Nor griiiuleur hear, with a disdaiiiful smile, 

The sliori but simple aimals of the poor. — Grat 

I. 

Mt lovM, my honor'd, much respected friend! 

No mercenary bard his homage pays ; 
With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, 

My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise : 
To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, 

The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene; 
The native feelings strong, the guileless ways ; 

What A**** in a cottage would have been; 
Ah ! the' his worth unknown, far happier there, 1 weea 
7# 



78 MIUJ^S'S I'OKMS 



Novoiiibor chill blaws IcmuI wT anixry sujvji - 

'The short'niniif wiiitor-day is near a close; 
Tlic miry boasts i-etroatintjf fiao the pleuofh ; 

The black'niiiir trains o' oraws to their repose ; 
The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor pfoes, 

This ni<jht his weekly moil is at an end, 
Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his ho(\s, 

llopinlr the morn in ease and rest to sptMul, 
And weary oVr the moor his course does homeward bend 



At ItMi^th his lonely ci>t appears in view, 

HentMth the shelter of an ao-ed tree ; 
Th' expectant wec-thino-s, toddlin, stacher thro' 

To meet their dad, wi' llichter in noise an jj^leo ; 
His wee bit inii^le blinkin bonily, 

His clean hearth-stant\ his thritly witie's smile. 
The lisi>in<>- infant prattlinji" on his knee. 

Does iC his weary, carUing cares bejjuile, 
An' uKikes him (piite rory;et his labor and his toil. 



iJelyvo tlie elder bairns come drappin in, 

At service ont, nnuuit;^ the tanners roan' ; 
Some ca' the plenyh, some herd, some tentio rin 

A caimie errand to a neebor town ; 
Their eldest hope, tlieir Jeiiny, woman <jrown, 

In yonthlu' bloom, love sparklinof in her e'e, 
Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw new gown, 

Or deposite iior sair-woii penny-foe, 
To help her parents dear, if tliey in hardship bo. 



BURNS'S rOKM3. 70 



Wi' joy iiiitrionM, liiollu'is and sisters iiinct, 

All' ciH'li I'lM- (illicr'rt wellarc kindly s;>l('rs ; 
'J'li(> social hours, Hwill-win^-'d, uniioticM (l('(^t ; 

Kacli tolls t.JKi wiKios that ho hooh or hoars ; 
'Wn paroiits, partial, oyo their liopol'ul yoJiffi ; 

Anticipation forward points th(^ vi(MV. 
'Ph(3 mother, wi' jier needle an' her sJKM'rs, 

(iars aiild claes look aiiiaist as wim'I's the now; 
The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. 



Their master's an' their mistr(!ss's command, 

'J'he yonidiors a' ar*; warned to ohoy ; 
"An' mind tlwiir iahors wi' an eyiUmt hand, 

An' ne'er, tho' out o' si;4hl, to jaiik or play, 
An' O! bo Huro to f(;ar the Lord ahvay ! 

An' mind your dull/, duly, morn an' night! 
Lost in temptation's |)ath ye f^"an<;f astray, 

Imi)loro Jlis counsel and assisting might; 
rhoy never sought in vain, that sought tiie Lord aright! 



But hark ! a nip comos g(mtly to tho door ; 

Jonny, ■vvha kons tho moaning o' tlie Hamo, 
Tells how a neehor lad came o'er the moor, 

To do some errands, and convoy her hame ! 
The wily mother sees tho conscious flame 

Sparkle in Jenny's c'c, and Hush licr cheek ; 
With hoarl,-struck, anxious care, inquires his name, 

While Jenny hafllins is afraid to speak ; [r'lke. 

Wcel plcas'd tho mother hoars, it's nao wild, worthloBi 



BO BURNS'S POEMS. 



VIII. 



Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings liim ben, 

A strappan youth ; he takes the mother's eye ; 
Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; 

The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. 
The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, 

But blate an' laithfu', scarce can wecl behave ; 
The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy 

What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave ; 
Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lava 



IX. 

O, happy love ! where love like this is found ; 

O, heart-fcit raptures ! bliss beyond compare ! 
I've paced much this weary, mortal round, 

And sag-e experience bids me this declare — 
If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, 

One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, 

In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, 
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening 
gale. 



Is there, in human form, that bears a heart, 

A wretch ! a villain ! lost to love and truth . 
That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art. 

Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth ? 
Curse on his perjur'd arts ! dissembling smooth ! 

Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exil'd ? 
Is there no pity, no relenting ruth. 

Points to the parents fondling o'er their child ? 
Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild 



BURNS S POEMS. 81 



XI. 



But now tlie supper crowns their simple board! 

The lialesome parritch, cliief o' Scotia's food; 
The soup their only hawkie does afford, 

That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cud : 
The dame brings forth, in complimental mood, 

To grace the lad, her Avecl-hain'd kebbuck fell, 
An' aft he's press'd, an' aft he ca's it good ; 

The frugal wifie garrulous will tell. 
How 'tlias a towmond auld, sin 'lint was i' the belL 



The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, 

They, round the ingle, form a circle wide; 
The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace. 

The big Ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride ; 
His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside. 

His lyart haffets wearin thin an' bare ; 
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 

He wales a portion with judicious care ; 
And, " Let us worship God ! " he says with solemn ail 



XIII. 

rhey chant their artless notes in simple guise, 

They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim ; 
Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise, 

Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of thfe name ; 
Or noble Elgin beats the heav'nward flame, 

The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays: 
Compar'd with tliese, Italian trills are tame ; 

The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise, 
Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 



52 BURNS^S POEMS 

XIV. 

The priest-like fiithor reads tlio sacred pag'e, 

How Abram was the friend of God on hi<rh • 
Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage 

With Anuilek's ungracious progeny ; 
Or, how the Royal Bard did groaning lie 

33eneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; 
Or, Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; 

Or, rapt Isaiah's wild seraphic fire ; 
Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. 



XV. 

Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, 
How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; 

How He, wjio bore in Heav'n the second name, 
Had not on earth wliereon to lay his head ! 

How His first followers and servants sped 

The precepts sage they wrote to many a kind 

How he, who lone in Patmos banished, 
-Saw in the sun a miglity angel stand; 

And heard groat liab'lon's doom pronounc'd by HeavVa 
conunand. 



Then, kneeling down, to Heav'n's eternal King, 
The saint, the father, and tlie husband prays ! 

Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"* 
That thus they all shall meet in future days ; 

There, ever bask in uncreated rays. 

No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, 

Together hymning their Creator's praise, 

* PiM>e"s Windsor Forest. 



BURNS'S P0EM3. 



In such society, yet still more dear; 
While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere 



CompjirM witli this, how poor llelirrion's pride, 

In all the pomp of method, and of art, 
When men display to congregations wide 

Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart! 
The Pow'r, incens'd, the pageant will desert, 

I'he pompous strain, tlie sacerdotal stole ; 
Tint haplv, in sonic cottage far apart, 

May hoar, well ])h:^:is'd, the language of the soul. 
And in his Book of Liie the inmates poor enrol ! 



Then homp\»^a'-d aU take off their scv'ral way ; 

The youngling cottagers retire to rest; 
The parciiT-pair their secret homage pay, 

And proflbr up to Heav'n the warm request, 
That lie who stUls the raven's clam'rous nest, 

And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride. 
Would, in the wav his wisdom sees the best, 

For them and for their little ones provide, 
IJut chiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside 



Fr)m scenes like these old Scotia'ja grandeur spring* 
That makes her lov'd at home, rover'd abroad ; 

Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 
"An honest man's the noblest work of God;** 

And certes in fair virtue's heav'nly road. 
The cottage leaves the palace far behind; 



tJ4 BURXS'S POEMS 

What is a lordling's pomp ? — a cumbrous load, 

Disguising- of the wretch of human-kind, 
Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd ' 



O Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! 

For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent, 
Long may the hardy sons of rustic toil 

Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! 
And, O ! may Heav'n their simple lives prevent 

From luxury's contagion, weak and vile! 
Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, 

A virtuous populace may rise the while. 
And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isl© 



O Thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide 

That stream'd thro' Wallace's undaunted hean 
Who dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic pride, 

Or nobly die, the second glorious part; 
(The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art, 

His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !) 
O never, never Scotia's realm desert ; 

But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard, 
In bright succession rise, her ornament and guards 



BURNS'S POEMS. S5 



VERSES. 

UTRITTEN IN FRIAr's-CARSE HERxMITAGE, ON NITH-SIDSi 

Thou whom chance may hither lead, 
Be thou clad in russet weed, 
Be thou deck'd in silken stole, 
Grave these counsels on tliy soul — 

Life is but a day at most. 
Sprung from night, in darkness lost; 
Hope not sunshine ev'ry hour. 
Fear not clouds will always low'r. 

As youth and love, with spriglitly dance, 
Beneath thy morning- star advance. 
Pleasure with her siren air 
May delude the thoughtless pair; 
Let prudence bless enjoyment's cup. 
Then raptur'd sip, and sip it up. 

As thy day grows warm and high. 
Life's meridian flaming nigh. 
Dost thou spurn the humble vale ? 
Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale ? 
Check thy climbing step, elate. 
Evils lurk in felon wait; 
Dangers, eagle-pinion'd, bold. 
Soar around each cliffy hold. 
While cheerful peace, with linnet song, 
Chants the lowly dells among. 
8 



66 



BURNS S POEMS. 

As the shiulos of ovciiin^r close, 
IJeck'ninjjf thee to long repose ; 
As life itself becomes tliscasc, 
Seek the chiinney-neuk of ease ; 
There riiininato witli sober thou<rht, 
On ull tliDu'st seen, and hoard, and wrought; 
And teach tlio sportive younkers round, 
Laws of experience, sane and sound. 
Say, Man's true, j^onuine estimate, 
Tlie grand criterion of his fate, 
Is not, Art thou high or low ? 
Did thy fortune ebb or flow ? 
Did many talents gild thy span? 
Or frugal nature grudge thee one.? 
'JY'll them, and prtKss it on their mind. 
As thou thyself must shortly find, 
1'he smile or frown of awful lleav'n 
To virtue or to vice is giv'n. 
Say, to be just, and kind, and Avise, 
There solid self-enjoynjont lies ; 
That foolish, sollish, faithless ways. 
Lead to the wretched, vile, and base. 

Thus resign'd and quio't, creep 
To the bed of lasting sleep ; 
Sleep, whence tliou shalt ne'er awoke 
Night where dawn shall never break, 
Till future life, future no more, 
To light and joy the good restore. 
To light and joy unknown before! 

Stranger, go ! Heaven be tliy guide ' 
Quod the Beadsman of Nith-side 



BUttlVii'S l'UKU4. 87 



A PRAYER, 

CKDER THE I'KKSSUKK Of VIOLENT AIHUUIUU, 

O Tilou ^rcjut JJoin<^ ! what thou art 

Sur|)aH8us nie to know; 
Yet sure I am, that known to TJicc 

Arc all thy works holow. 

Thy creature here before Thee etanda, 

All wretched and diHtrest ; 
Yet sure those ills tjjat wring my soul 

Obey tiiy high behest. 

Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act 

From cruelty or wrath ! 
O, free my weary eyes from tears, 

Or, close them fast in deatli! 

But if I must afllicted be, 

To suit some wise design ; 
Then man my soul with firm resolvei 

To bear and not repine! 



BURNS S POEMS. 



A PRAYER, 

IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. 

O THOU, unknown, Almighty Cause 

Of all my hope and fear! 
In whose dread presence, ere an hour, 

Perhaps I must appear ! 

If I have wander'd in those paths 

Of life I ought to shun ; — 
As something, loudly in my breast, 

Remonstrates I have done ; — 

Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me 
With passions wild and strong ; 

And list'ning to their witching voice 
Has often led me wrong. 

Where human weakness has come short, 

Or frailty stept aside, 
Do Thou, All Good ! — for such Thou art, 

In shades of darkness hide. 

Where with intention I have err'd, 

No other plea I have, 
But, Thou art good! and goodness still 

Delighteth to forgive ' 



BURNS'S POEMS. 89 



STANZAS, 

ON THE SAME OCCASION. 



Why ain I loth to leave this earthly scene? 

Have I so found it full of pleasing charms? 
Soino drops of joy with draughts of ill between ; 

Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms 
Is it ctepartmg pangs ray soul alarms ? 

Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode ? 
For guilt, for guilt ! my terrors are in arms ! 

I tremble to approach an angry God, 
And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod. 

II. 

Fain would I say, •' Forgive my foul offence ' ** 

F'ain promise never more to disobey : 
But, should my Author health again dispense, 

Again T might desert fair virtue's way : 
Again in folly's path might go astray; 

Again exalt the brute, and sink the man ; 
Th-'n how should I for heav'nly mercy pray. 

Who act so counter heav'nly mercy's plan? 
Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran? 



O Thou, great Governor of all below, 
If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee, 

Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow, 
Or still the tumult of the raging sea ; 
8* 



90 BURNS'S POEMS. 

With that controlling pow'r assist ev'n me, 
Those headloni(, furious passions to confine; 

For ail unfit I feel my pow'rs to be, 

To rule their torrent in th' allowed line; 

O, aid me with thy help, Omnipotence divine ! 



VERS3S, 

LEFT BY THE AUTHOR ATA REVEREND FRIEJVd's UOtSB 
IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT. 



O THOU, dread Pow'r, who reign'st above ; 

I know thou wilt me hear, 
When, for this scene of peace and love 

I make my pray'r sincere. 



The hoary sire, the nr^rtal stroke, 
Long, long, be plea»«M to spare ! 

To bless his little fili>vi flock. 
And show what gocd men are. 



She, who her lovely «Qspring eyes 

Witli tender hopes 4»nd fears, 
O, bless her with a mother's joy*, 

But spare a mother'* teai« ! 

IV. 

Their hope, their stay, ^eir d*riin^ fo»%b 
In manhood's dawnit-^ bluib; 



BURNS'S POEMS. 91 

131 03S him, thou God of love and truth, 
Up to a parent's wish ! 



The beauteous, seraph sister-band, 

With earnest tears I pray, 
Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand, — 

Guide Thou their steps alway ! 

VI. 

When soon or late they reach that coast, 
O'er life's rough ocean driv'n. 

May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost, 
A family in heav'n ! 



A GRACE BEFORE DINNER. 

O THOU, who kindly dost provide 

For ev'ry creature's want ! 
We bless thee, God of Nature wide 

For all thy goodness lent: 

And if it please thee, heav'nly Guide, 

May never worse be sent ; 
But whether granted or denied, 
It! 



99 BURNS 8 POEMS. 



THE FIRST PSALM. 

The man in life, wherever plac'd, 

llatli happiness in store, 
Who walks not in the wicked's way, 

Nor learns their guilty lore! 

Nor from tJio scat of scornful pride 
Casts forth his eyes abroad, 

But with humility and awe 
Still walks before his God. 

• 
That man slui.l llourish like the trees 

Which by the streamlets o-row ; 
The fruitful top is spread on high, 

And lirm the root below. 

But he whose blossom buds in guilt. 
Shall to the ground be cast, 

And, like the rootless stubble, tost 
Before the sweeping blast. 

For why? — That God, the good adore, 
Hath giv'n them peace and rest. 

But hath decreed that wicked men 
Shall ne'er be truly blest 



BDRNS'S POEMS. D3 



TJiC FIRST SIX VERSi:S OF TlIK NINETIETH 
rSALM. 
O TFioiJ, the first, tlio jrrcatest friend 

Of all tlic huiiiiin race ! 
Wliose strong riglit hand has ever been 
Tiicir stay and dwelling place ! 

Before the Lnountains iicavM their hcids 

Beneath tiiy forming hand, 
Before this pond'rous globe itself 

Arose at thy connnand ; 

That Pow'r which rais'd, and still upholds 

TJiis universal frame, 
From countless, uni)eginning time, 

Was ever still the same. 

Tliose mighty periods of years 

Which seem to us so vast, 
Api)ear no more before thy sight 

Than yesterday that's past. 

Thou giv'st the word — thy creature, man, 

Is to existence brought ; 
Again thou say'st, " Ye sons of men, 

Return ye into nought ! " 

Thou layest them, with all their cares, 

In everlasting sleep ; 
As with a Hood Thou tak'st them off 

With overwhelming sweep. 



94 BURNS S POEMS. 

They flonrisli like tlie morning flowV, 
In beauty's pride array 'd ; 

But lonor ere ninht, cut down, it lies 
All wither'd and decay'd. 



EPTSTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 



1 LANG hae tliouolit, niy youthfu' friend, 

A sometiiing to have sent you, 
Tho' it sh()uld servo no otiier end 

Than Just a kind memento ; 
But iiow the suhject-tlienic may gfang", 

Let time and chance doternune ; 
Perliaps it may turn out a sang^, 

Perliaps turn out a sermon. 



Ye'll try the world soon, my lad, 

And Andrew, dear, believe me, 
Yc'U rtnd mankind an unco squad, 

And muckle they may jrrieve ye! 
For care ami trouble set your thought, 

Ev'n when your end's attained ; 
And a' your views may come to nought, 

Wiien ev'ry nerve is strained. 



ril no say men are villains a'; 

The real, harden'd, wicked, 
Wha hae nae clieck but human law 

Are to a few restricked — 



BURNS'S POEMS. 95 



But och ! mankind are unco weak, 
An' little to be trusted ; 

If self the wav'rinf^ balance shake, 
It's rarely rigiit adjusted ! 



Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strife, 

Their fate we should na censure 
For still th' important end of lile 

They equally may answer ; 
A man may hae an honest heart, 

Tho' poortith hourly stare him ; 
A man may tak a neebor's part. 

Yet hae na cash to spare him. 



Ay free, atr han', your story tell, 

When wi' a bosom crony ; 
But still keep something to yoursel, 

Ye'll scarcely tell to ony. 
Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can, 

Frae critical dissection ; 
But keek thro' ev'ry other man, 

Wi' sharpcu'd, sly inspection. 



The sacred lowe o' weel-plac'd love, 

Luxuriantly indulge it ; 
But never tempt th' illicit rove, 

Tho' naething should divulge it; 
I waive the quantum o' the sin, 

The hazard o' concealing , 
But och ! it hardens a' within, 

And oetrifies the feeling ! 



96 BURNS'S POEMS. 



To catch dame Fortune's golden smile. 

Assiduous wait upon her; 
And gfather g-oar by ev'ry wile 

That's justified by honor — 
Not for to liide it in a hedge, 

Nor for a train-attendant, 
But for the glorious privilege 

Of being independent! 

VIII. 

T>je fear o' hell's a hangman's whip^ 

To baud the wretch in order, — 
But where ye feel your honor grip, 

Let that a' be your border ; 
It's slightest touches, instant pause, — 

Debar a' side pretences ; 
And resolutely keep its laws, 

Uncaring consequences. 



The great Creator to revere. 

Must sure become the creature ; 
But still the preaching cant forbear, 

And ev'n the rigid feature ; 
Yet ne'er with wits profane to range. 

Be complaisance extended ; 
An atheist's laugh's a poor exchange 

For Deity offended ! 

X. 

When ranting round in pleasure's ring. 

Religion may be blmded ; 
Or, if she gie a xundom sing, 

It may be little minded ; 



BURNS'S POEMS. 97 

But when on life we're temncst driv*n, 

A conscience but a canker — 
A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n 

Is sure a nobler anchor ! 



Adieu, dear, amiable youth ! 

Your heart can ne'er be wanting; 
May pnidence, fortitude, and truth, 

Erect your brow undaunting? 
In ploughman phrase, " Gad send you speed," 

Still daily to grow wiser; 
And may you better reck the rfde 

Than ever did th' adviser: 
May, 178d 

9 



BOOK II. 

PATHETIC, ELEGIAC, AND DESCRIPTIVE. 



MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. 



When chill November's surly blast 

Made fields and forests bare, 
One ev'ning-, as I wander'd forth 

Along the banks of Ayr, 
I spy'd a man, Avhose aged step 

Seem'd weary, worn with care ; 
His face was furrow'd o'er witli years, 

And hoary was his hair. 



Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou? 

(Began the rev'rend sage ;) 
Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain, 

Or youthful pleasure's rage ? 
Or haply, prest with cares and woes, 

Too soon tliou hast began 
To wander forth, with me, to mourn 

The miseries of man ! ^ 



BURNS S rOEfllS. 
III. 

The sun that ovcrhan<^s yon moors, 

Out-spreuclinfj far and wide, 
Where hundreds labor to support 

A haughty lordling's pride; 
Fve seen yon weary winter sun 

Twice forty times return ; 
And ev'ry time has added proofs, 

That man was made to mourn. 



O man ! while in thy early years, 

How prodigal of time ! 
Misspending all thy precious hours. 

Thy glorious youthful prime ! 
Alternate follies take the sway; 

Licentious passions burn ; 
Which tenfold force gives Nature's law, 

That man was made to mourn. 



Look not alone on youthful prime, 

Or manhood's active might; 
Man then is useful to his kind, 

Supported in his right; 
But see him on the edge of life, 

With cares and sorrows worn, 
Then age and want, oh! ill-match'd pair! 

Show man was made to mourn. 



A few seem favorites of Fate, 

In Pleasure's lap carest; 
Yet, think not all the rich and great 

Are likewise truly blest. 

LofC. 



*00 BURNS'S rOEMS. 

But oh ! wliat crowds, in ev'ry land, 
Are wretched and forlorn; 

Thro' weary life this lesson learn, 
That man was made to mourn. 



Many and sharp tlie num'rous ills 

Inwoven with our frame ! 
More pointed still we make ourselv(» 

Regret, remorse, and shame ! 
And man, whose heav'n-erected face 

The smiles of love adorn, 
Man's inhumanity to man 

Makes countless thousands mourn. 



See yonder poor, o'erlabor'd wigbt^ 

So abject, mean, and vile, 
Who begs a brother of the earth 

To give him leave to toil ! 
And see his lordly fellow-worm 

The poor petition spurn, 
Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife 

And helpless offspring mourn. 



If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave, 

By Nature's law design'd; 
Why was an independent wish 

E'er planted in my mind? 
If not, why am I subject to 

His cruelty, or scorn? 
Or why has man the will and pow'r 

To make his fellow mourn? 



BCRNS'S rOEMS. 101 



Yet, let not this too much, my son, 

Disturb tliy youtliful breast; 
This partial view of human kind 

Is surely not the last ! 
The poor, oppressed, honest man, 

Had never, sure, been born, 
Had there not been some recompense 

To comfort those that mourn. 



O Death! the poor man's dearest friend 

The kindest and the best ! 
Welcome the hour my aged limbs 

Are laid with thee at rest ! 
The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow, 

From pomp and pleasure torn; 
But oh, — a blest relief to those 

That weary-laden mourn! 



A WINTER NIGHT. 

P<»or nakod wretches, wheresoe'er you are, 
Thai bide the pehing of this pitiless storm! 
How siiall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, 
Your loop'd and window'd raf'j,fedness defend you 
From seasons such as these? — Shakspeare. 

When biting Boreas, fell and doure, 
Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r; 
When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r, 
Far south the lift. 
9* 



102 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Dim-dark'ning thro' tlic flaky show'r. 
Or whirlin drift! 

Ae night t]ie storm the steeples rock'd, 
Poor Labor sweet in sleep was lock'd, 
While burns, wi' snawy wreaths up-chock*c, 

Wild-eddying swirl, 
Or thro' the mining outlet bock'd, 

Down headlong hurl. 

List'ning, the doors an' winnocks rattle, 
I thought me on the ourie cattle, 
Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle 

O' winter war. 
And thro' the drift, deep-lairing sprattle. 

Beneath a scar. 

Ilk happing bird, wee jielpless thing, 
That in the merry months o' spring, 
Delighted me to hear thee sing. 

What comes o' thee? 
Wliere wilt thou cow'r thy chitt'ring wing, 

An' close thy e'e ? 

Ev'n you on murd'ring errands toil'd, 
Lone, from your savage homes exil'd. 
The blood-stain'd roost, and sheep-cote spoil'd, 

My heart forgets. 
While pitiless the tempest wild 

Sore on you beats. 

Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign, 
Dark-mufllod, view'd the dreary plain ; 
Still crowding thoughts, a pensive train, 
• Rose in my soul, 



BURNS'S POKMS. 103 

When on my car this plaintive strain, 

Slow, solemn, stole : — 

" Blow, blow, yc winds, with heavier gust ! 
And freeze, thou bitter-biting- frost! 
Descend, ye chilly, smoth'rin^ snows! 
Not all your rage, as now united, shows 

More hard unkindnoss, unrelenting, 

Vengeful malice, unrepcntirig. 
Than heav'n-illumin'd man on brother man bestows 

"See stern Oppression's iron grip, 

Or mad Ambition's gory hand. 
Sending, like blood-hounds from the slip, 

Wo, want, and murder, o'er a land! 

" Ev'n in the peaceful rural valo, 
Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale, 
How pamper'd luxury, flatt'ry by her side, 

The parasite empoisoning her ear, 

With all the servile wretches, in the rear, 
Look o'er proud property extended Avide, 

And eyes the simple rustic hind. 
Whose toil upholds the glitt'ring show, 

A creature of another kind, 

Some coarser substance, unrefin'd, 
Plac'd for her lordly use thus far, thus vile, below, 

"Where, where is love's fond, tender throe 
With lordly Honor's lofty brow, 

The pow'rs you proudly own ? 
Is there, beneath love's noble name, 
Can harbor, dark, the selfish aim, 

To bless himself alone ? 



104 BUIINS'S POEMS. 

"Mark maiden innocence, a prey 
To love-pretcntling snares, 

Tliis boasted honor turns away, 

Shunning soft pity's rising sway, 
Regardless of the tears, and unavailing prayers ! 

Perhaps, this hour, in mis'ry's squalid nest. 

She strains your infant to her joyless breast. 
And witli a mother's fears shrieks at the rocking blast 

" O yc ! who, sunk in beds of down, 
Feel not a want but what yourselves create, 
Think for a moment on his wretched fate, 
Whom friends and fortune quite disown! 
Ill satisfied keen nature's clam'rous call, 

Strctch'd on his straw, lie lays himself to sleep, 
While thro' the ragged roof and chinky wall, 
Chill o'er his slumbers piles the drifty heap ! 
Think on the dungeon's grim conline. 
Where guilt and poor misfortune pine! 
Guilt, erring man, relenting view ! 
But shall thy legal rage pursue 
The wretch already crushed low 
By cruel fortune's undeserved blow ! 
Affliction's son's are brothers in distress, 
A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss ! " 

I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer 

Shook off tlie pouthery suiw, 
And hail'd tlio morning with a cheer, 

A cottage-rousing craw. 

But deep this truth impress'd my mind — 

Thro' all his works abroad. 
The heart, benevolent and kind, 

The most resembles God. 



BURNS^S rOEAIS. 105 



WINTER. 



The wintry west extends his blast, 

And hail and rain docs blaw ; 
Or, the stormy north sends driving forth 

The blinding sleet and snaw : 
While tumblinfr brown, the burn comes dowa 

And roars frae bank to brae ; 
And bird and beast in covert rest. 

And pass the heartless day. 



"The sweeping blast, the sky o'crcast,"* 

The joyless winter day, 
Let others fear, to me more dear 

Than all the pride of May ! 
The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, 

My griefs it seems to join. 
The leafless trees my fancy please, 

Their fate resembles mine ! 



Thou Pow'r Supreme, whose mighty schonje 

These woes of mine fulfil, 
Here, firm, I rest — they must be best, 

Because they arc thy will ! 

• Dr. Youii''. 



lOG BURNS'S POEMS. 

Then all I want, (O, do tliou grant 
This one request of mine!) 

Since to enjoy thou dost deny, 
Assist me to resign. 



DESPONDENCY. 

AN ODE. 



Oppress'd with grief, oppressed with care, 
A burden more than I can bear, 

] sit me down and sigh; 
O life, thou art a galling load, 
A long, a rougli, a weary road, 

To wretches such as I ! 
Dim, backward as I cast my view, 

What sick'ning scenes appear ! 
What sorrows yet may pierce me thro', 
Too justly I may fear! 
Still caring, despairing. 

Must be my bitter doom ; 
My woes here shall close ne'er, 
But with the closing tomb 1 



Happy, ye sons of busy life. 
Who, equal to the bustling strife, 

No oilier view regard ! 
Ev'n wlicn the wished end's denied, 
Yet while the busy means are ply'd, 

Thev brinir their own reward: 



lURNS's POKMS, 107 



Whilst I, a hopc-abandon'ti wight, 

Unfitted with an aim, 
Meet cv'ry sad returning' night, 
And joyless n)orn, the same. 
You, bustling and justling, 

Forget each griof and pain ; 
I, listless, yet restless, 
Find ev'ry prospect vain. 



How blest the Solitary's lot. 
Who, all-forgetting, all-forgot, 

Within his humble cell, 
The cavern wild with tangling roots, 
Sits o'er his newly-gather'd fruits, 

Beside his crystal well ! 
Or, haply, to his evening thought, 

By unfrequented stream. 
The ways of men are distant brought, 
A faint collected dream; 
While praising, and raising 

His thoughts to Ileav'n on high, 
As wand'ring, meand'ring, 
lie views the solemn sky. 



Then I, no lonely hermit plac'd 
Where never human footstep trac*d, 

Less fit to play the part ; 
The lucky moment to improve. 
And just to stop, and just to move. 

With self-respecting art: 
But ah ! those pleasures, loves, and joys, 

Which I too keenly taste, 
The ►Solitary can despise, 



108 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Can want, and yet be blest I 
He needs not, he heeds not, 

Or human love or hale. 
Whilst I here, must cry here, 

At perfidy inj^rate ! 



Oh ! enviable, early days, 

When dancing, thoughtless pleasure's maze, 

To care, to guilt unknown ! 
How ill exchaug'd for riper times, 
To feel the follies, or the crimes. 

Of others, or my own ! 
Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport, 

Like linnets in the bush, 
Ye little know the ills ye court. 
When manliood is your wish ! 
The losses, the crosses, 

Tliat active man engage ! 
The fears all, tlie tears all, 
Of dim declininir age ! 



TO RUIN. 



All hail! inexornbl*^ lord! 

At whose dcstruciion-Dreathing woru 

The mightiest empires fall ! 
Thy cruel, wo-deligiited train. 

The ministers of grief and pain, 

A sullen ■welcome, all! 



BURNS'S POEMS. 109 

With storn, rcRolvM, dospairing eye, 

I sec each aimed d;irt ; 
For one has cut my dearest tie, 
And quivers in my heart. 
Then lowering and pouring-, 

The storm no more I dread'; 
Tlio' thick'ning and black'ning 
Round my devoted head. 



And thou, grim pow'r, by life abhorr'd* 
While life a pleasure can afford, 

Oh ! hear a wretch's pray'r ! 
No more I shrink appall'd, afraid, 
I court, I beg thy friendly aid, 
To close this scene of care ! 
When shall my soul, in silent peace, 

Resign life's joyless day ; 
My weary heart its throbbings cease, 
Cold mould'ring in the clay ? 
No fear more, no tear more, 
To strain my lifeless face ; 
Enclasped and grasped 
Within thy cold embrace ' 



LAMENT OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS 

ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING. 

Now Nature hangs her mantle green 

On ev'ry blooming tree. 
And spreads her sheets o' daisies white 

Out o'er the grassy lea;, 
10 



JIU BURNS S I'OKRIS, 

Now Plioebus cheers the cryst.al streams, 

And glads the azure skies ; 
But nought can ghid the weary wight 

That fast in durance lies. 

Now lav'rocks wake the merry morn 

Aloft on dewy wing- ; 
The merle, in his noontide bow'r, 

Makes woodland echoes ring; 
The mavis wild, wi' many a note, 

Sings drowsy day to rest ; 
In love and freedom they rejoice, 

Wi' care nor thrall opprest 

Now blooms the lily by the bank, 

The primrose down the brae, 
The hawthorn's budding in the glen. 

And milk-white is the slae : 
The meanest hind in fair Scotland 

May rove the sweets amang; 
But I, the Queen of a' Scotland, 

Maun lie in prison Strang. 

I was the Queen o' bonie France, 

Where happy I hae been ; 
Fu' lightly raise I in the morn, 

As blithe lay down at e'en ; 
And I'm the sov'reign of Scotland, 

And monie a traitor there; 
Yet here I lie in foreign bands, 

And never-ending care. 

But as for thee, thou false woman. 

My sister and my fae. 
Grim Vengeance, yet, shall whet a sword 



BURNS'S POEMS. Hi 

That thru' thy soul shall fjae ; 
The weeping blood in woman's breast 

Was never known to thee ; 
Nor th' balin that draps on wounds of wo 

Frae woman's pitying e'e. 

My son ! my son ! may kinder stars 

Upon, thy fortune shine ; 
And may those pleasures gild thy reign, 

That ne'er wad blink on mine ! 
God keep thee frae thy mother's faes, 

Or turn their hearts to thee ; 
And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend, 

Remember him for me ! 

O ! soon, to me, may summer-suns 

Nae mair light up the morn! 
Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds 

Wave o'er the yellow corn ! 
And, in the narrow house o' death, 

Let winter round me rave ! 
And the next flowers that deck the spring, 

Bloom on my oeaceful grave! 



113 BURNS'S rOEMS. 



THE LAMENT, 

OCCASIONED BT THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OT A FRIEND*! 
AMOUR. 

Aliis! how ofl lines Gootlness woniul itself, 
And swoet Afloction nrovo the spring of wo. 

IIOMK. 

I. 

O THOU pale orb, timt silent shines, 

While care-untroubled mortals sleep ! 
Thou seest a wretch that inly pnies, 

And wanders here to wail and weep. 
With wo I nifj^htly vigils keep, 

Beneath thy wan, unwarniing beam ; 
And mourn, in lamentation deep. 

How life and love are all a dream. 



I joyless view thy rays ad(M-n 

The faintly-marked distant hill ; 
I joyless view thy trembling' liorn. 

Reflected in the gurg-ling- rill : 
My fondly-llutt'ring heart, be still ! 

Thou busy pow'r, Remembrance, cease 
Ah! must the agonizing thrill 

For ever bar returning peace ! 



No idly-feign'd poetic pains. 

My sad love-lorn kuncntings claim ; 
No shepherd's pipe — Arcadian strains 



BUIINS'S POKMS. 118 

No fublod tortures, ((uaiiit nnd tamo, 
Tlio i)lin|,i,,!,I fiiiili, (ho iiiiitiml njiino, 

Till! <)ll-!iU.(;.sto(l Pow'rH above; 
The j)r()mi.sM Father's tender nanio ; 

Tliese were the plodj^ea of my love ? 

IV. 

Encircled in h<;r chispin^r arms. 

How have the raptur'd moments Hown! 
llow liave r wish'd for fortune's charms, 

For lier dear sake, and hers alone! 
And must I think it! is she gone. 

My secret heart's exultinjr boast? 
And does she heedless hear my groan ? 

And is she ever, ever lost? 



Oh ! can she bear so base a heart. 

So lost to honor, lost to trutii, 
As from the fondest lover part, 

TJie plighted husband of her youtb ? 
Alas ! life's path may be unsmooMi I 

Her way may lie thro' rough distress; 
Then, who her jjangs and pains will soothe, 

Her sorrows sJiaro, and make them less'*' 



Ye winged hours that o'er us past, 

Finra{)tm'd more, the more enjoy'd, 
Your dear remembrance in n)y breast, 

My fondly-treasur'd thouglits (uuploy'd. 
That breast, how dreary now, and void, 

For her too scanty once of room ! 
Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope destroy'd, 

And not a wish to gild the gloom 
10* 



114 BURNS'S rOEMS. 

Vll. 

The morn that warns th' approaching day, 

Awakes me up to toil and wo; 
I see the hours, in long- array, 

That I must suffer, ling'ring slow : 
Full many a pang-, and many a throe, 

Keen recollection's direful train, 
Must wring* my soul, ere PluEbus, low, 

Shall kiss the distant v/estern main. 



And when my nightly couch I try, 

Sore harass'd out with care and grief, 
My toil-heat nerves, and tear-worn eye, 

Keep watching-s with the nightly tiiief; 
Or if I slumber, Fancy, chief. 

Reigns haggard-wild, in. sore affright; 
Ev'n day, all-bitter, brings relief. 

From such a horror-breathinu nioht. 



O ! thou bright queen, who o'er th' expanse 

Now higiiost reign'st, with boundless sway 
Ofl has tiiy silent-marking glance 

Observ'd us, fondly-wand'ring, stray ! 
The time, unheeded, sped away. 

While love's luxurious pulse beat liigli, 
Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray. 

To mark the mutual kindling eye. 

X. 

Oh ! scenes in strong remembrance set ? 

Scenes never, never to return ! 
Scenes, if in stupor I forget, 

Again I feel, again I burn ; 



BURNS'S POKMS. US 



From cv'ry joy and pleasure torn, 
Life's weary vale I'll wander thro*; 

And hopeless, comfortless, I'll mourn 
A faithless woman's broken vow. 



LAMENT 

or A motiip:[i for the dkatii of her sow. 

Tune — " Finlayslon House.''^ 

Fate gave the word, the arrow sped, 
And pierc'd my darling's heart; 

And with him all tlie joys are fled 
Life can to me impart. 

By cruel hands the sapling drops. 

In dust dislionor'd laid ; 
So fell the pride of all my hopes. 

My age's future shade 

The mother linnet, in the brake, 

Bewails her ravish'd young; 
So I, for my lost darling's sake, 

Lament the live-day long. 

Death, oft I've fear'd tliy fatal blow 

Now, fond, I bare my breast; 
O, do thou kindly lay me low, 

Witli him I love, at rest ' 



116 BURNs'a rOEMS. 



LAMKNT 

KOIl JAMKS^ F.AUl. OK (JLKJNC A I RN. 

TuK wind bl(>\v hollow tVtio tlu; hills, 

Hy fits the suirn «lo]);irt.ing hoain 
liook'd on the luilinti,' yollow woods 

That wiiv'd o\m' IiU<>'!ir's winding- stream; 
Ucnoath a cnii^y st(H^j), a bard, 

Laden with years and nieiklc pain, 
In lend hunent bewaii'd his lord, 

Whom deatli had all untimely ta'cn. 



He loan'd him to an ancient aik, 

Whose trnnk was mould'rinjj; down with years, 
His locks were bleached white wi' tune, 

His hoary cluudv was wet wi' tears! 
And as he t()uchid his trend)liny; harp, 

And as he tun'd his doleful san<r, 
The winds, lani(Mitin<;r thro' their caves, 

To Echo bore the notes alau:?. 



" Ye scattcr'd birds that iaintly sinir, 

Tlio reliques of the vernal quire! 
Ye woods that shed on u' the winds 

The honors of the a<ifed year ! 
A few short months, ami jiflad and rray^ 

Af^ain ye'U charm the ear and e'e ; 
But nocht, in all -evolviu<r time. 

Coil ghulness bring again to nic. 



im'uns'm ror.MS. 117 

"I niTi a l)on(lin<r, nf;(>(l t,r(;o, 

That loufif has Htood the wind ntid rain 
IJiit now has coino a cruel blast, 

And my last liald of earth is gfano ; 
Niio loaf o' mine shall fjfrcct tho spring 

Nao siminor sun exalt my bloom ; 
l\\\\. I maun lie before \.\ir, storm, 

And itiiers plant them in my room. 

"I've seen sao moni(; chan^r(>fn' years, 

On earth I am a stran<jfer jrmwn ; 
I wander in the ways of* m(m, 

AIik(; unknowinfjf and uidcnown: 
Unheard, unpitied, unrelieved, 

I bear alanc my lado o' caro, 
For Hilcnt, low, on bods of dust, 

Lie a' that would my sorrows shnro. 

*And last, (the sum of a' my {griefs!) 

My noble master Vir.H in elay ; 
The flow'r aman^'- our barons bold. 

His country's j)ri(le, his country's stay ; 
In weary beinf^ now I pine. 

For a' the life of life is dead, 
And hope has left my arred ken. 

On forward winjjf for owx lied. 

"Awake thy last sad voice, my harp! 

Tho voice of wo and wild despair ! 
Awake! resound thy latest lay. 

Then sleep in silence evormair! 
And thoii, my last, best, only friend, 

That fillest an untimely tomb, 
Acc(!i)t this tribute from tlu; bard 

Thou brought from fortune's mirkcst gloom. 



ll^. HUIUNS's lM)i:iMS. 

"In poverty's low, barron vaU?, 

Thick mists, obscure, involvM luc round 
'J'ho' ort T turn'il the wistful eye, 

Ntto niy of i'fune was to be Ibund : 
Thou tbuiurst uio, like the inoruiu^ sun 

That uieltH the logs in linipiil air; 
The friendless bard, and rustic son<^, 

Became alike thy fost'ring care. 

** Oh ! wjiy has worth so short a date? 

While villains rijjen ;^-ray with time, 
Must thou, the noble, jiiui'rous, n^reat, 

Fall in bold manhood's hardy i)rinJO ? 
Why did 1 live to see that day ? 

A day to me so full of wo ! 
O, had I met the mortal shall 

Which laid my benolaiMor low ! 

"The brideivroom may Ibrgot iho bride 

Was made his wedded wife yestreen ; 
Tiio monarch may forget the crown 

That on his head an hour has been ; 
The mother may forget the child 

That smiles sao sweetly on her knee; 
But I'll remenber thee, (jlencairn, 

And u' that tliou hast done for nie ** 



llUilNS'S I'UKMS. 119 



LINES, 

BKM' TO 8IK JOHN WIIITKFOUI), OK WIIITKt(MU), 1IAKT« 
AVITII TIIK FORKOOINO I'OKIM. 

Tiiou wlio tliy honor as tliy (lod r(!V('r'HV, 

Who, siivo thy luiiid'H roproiicii, n()u<rht earthly foar'sl. 

To thoc this votive oirVinir I impart, 

'V\\c teail'ul trii)utt! of ii hroken luN-irt. 

The friend thou vahied'st, I the patron hn'd ; 

]liH worth, his Iionor, ull the world approv'd. 

We'll mourn till we too go us he lias j^one, 

And tread tlio dreary path to that dark world unknowa 



STRATIIAI.LAN'S LAMENT. 

TiiicKKST ni^ht o'erhnn;rM my dwelling! 

Howling tompcsta o'er mo rave' 
Turbid torrents wintry swelling, 

Still surround my lonely cave. 

Crystal streamlets gently flowing, 
IJuHy haunts of base mankind, 

Western breezes softly blowing. 
Suit not my distracted mind. 

In the cause of right engaged, 
WrongB injurious to redresH, 



120 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Honor's war we strongly waged, 
But tlie Heavens denied success. 

Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us, 
Not a hope that dare attend ; 

The wide world is all before us, 
But a world without a friend ! 



THE CHEVALIER'S LAMENT. 

The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning ; 

The murmuring streamlet winds clear thro' tlie vale ; 
The hawthorn trees blow in the dews of the morning, 

And wild-scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale : 

But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair. 
While the lingering moments are number'd by care ? 

No flow'rs gayly springing, nor birds sweetly singing; 
Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair. 

The deed that I dar'd, could it merit their malice, 
A king and a father to place on his throne ? 

His right are these hills, and his right are these valleys^ 
Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find nono. 

But 'tis not my sufl^erings, thus wretched, forlorn, — 
My brave, gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I mourn ; 
Your deeds prov'd so loyal in hot, bloody triaJL 
Alas ! can I make you no sweeter return ! 



BUKNS'S POEMS 121 



THE AUTHOR'S FAREWELL TO HIS NATIVE 
COUNTRY. 

T U.N E — « Roslin CastU:' 



The gloomy night is gathVing fast, 
l-roud roars the wild, inconstant blast, 
Yon murky cloud is foul with rain, 
I see it driving o'er the plain ; 
The hunter now lias left the moor, 
The scatter'd coveys meet secure, 
While here I wander, prest with care, 
Along the lonely banks of Ayr, 



The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn 
By early Winter's ravage torn ; 
Across her placid azAire sky 
She sees the scowling tempest fly : 
Chill runs my blood to hear it rave, 
I think upon the stormy wave. 
Where many a danger I must dare, 
Far from the bonie banks of Ayr. 



'Tis not the surging billows' roar, 
'Tis not that fatal, deadly shore; 
Though death in ev'ry shape appear, 
The wretched have no more to fear. 
But round my heart the ties are bound. 
That heart transpierc'd with many a wound « 
11 



122 BURNS's POEMS. 

These bleed afresh, those ties I tear, 
To leave the bonie banks of Ayr. 



Farewell ! old Coila's hills and dales, 
Her heathy moors and winding vales, 
The scenes where wretched fancy roves. 
Pursuing past, unhappy loves I 
Farewell, my friends ! farewell, my foes ! 
My peace with these, my love with those: 
The bursting tears my heart declare, 
Farewell the bonie banks of Ayr. 



FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE. • 

Scenes of wo and scenes of pleasure, 
Scenes that former thoughts renew, 

Scenes of wo and scenes of pleasure, 
Now a sad and last adieu ! 

Bonie Doon, sae sweet and gloamin, 
Fare thee weel before 1 gang I 

Bonie Doon, whare, early roaming, 
First I weav'd the rustic sang! 

Bow'rs, adieu, whare Love, decoying, 
First inthrall'd this heart o' mine. 

There the safest sweets enjoying. 
Sweets that Mem'ry ne'er shall tyne I 

Friends, so near my bosom ever, 
Ye liae render'd moments dear 



BURNS'S rOEMJj". 123 

But, alas ! wlicn forc'd to sever, 
Then the stroke, O how severe I 

Friends! that parting tear, reserve it, 

Tho' 'tis doubly dear to me; 
Could I think I did deserve it. 

How much happier would I be ! 

Scenes of wo and scenes of pleasure, 
Scenes that former thoughts renew, 

Scenes of wo and scenes of pleasure. 
Now a sad and last adieu ! 



THE FAREWELL TO THE BRETHREN OF ST. 
JAMES'S LODGE, TARBOLTON. 

Tune — " Good night, and joy he wi' you a'/" 



Adifu! a heart-warm, fond adieu! 

Dear brothers of the mystic tye!' 
Ye favor'd, ye enlighten'd few, . 

Companions of my social joy ! ' 
Tlio' I to foreign lands must hie. 

Pursuing fortune's sliddery ba', 
With melting heart, and brimful eye, 

I'll mind you still, tho' far awa'. 



Oft have I met your social band, 

And spent the cheerful, festive night; 



134 BUUNS'S J»OF.MS. 

Oft, lionorM Avitli supreme command, 
Presided o'er the suns of li^jht : 

And by that hierog'lyphic bright, 

Wliicli none but craftsmen ever saw ! 

Strong mem'ry on my Iieart sliall -write 
Those liappy scenes, when far awa'. 



May freedom, harmony, and love, 

Unite you in the grand design. 
Beneath the Onmiscient Eye above, 

The glorious Architect divine ! 
Tliat you may keep the unerring lino, 

Still rising by tlie plummet's law, 
Till order bright completely shine, 

Shall be my pray'r when far awu'. 



And you, farewell ! wliose merits claim, 

Justly, that liighest badge to wear! 
Heav'n bless your honor'd, noble name, 

To Masonry and Scotia dear ! 
A last request permit me here, — 

Wlien yearly yc assemble a*. 
One round, — I ask it with a tear, — 

To him — tJie Bard tliat's far awa*! 



BURNS'S I'UEMW. 125 



faui-:vvi:li. to eliza. 

'J'uNK — "Gt'Wcrov." 

From thco, Eliza, I must go, 

And tVoin my native shore; 
The cru(!l fates between us throw 

A b()un<Uess ocean's roar : 
But boundless oceans, roarinj^ wide, 

IJetwecn my love and n»e. 
They never, never can divide 

My heart and soul from tlico. 



Farewell, farewell, I'iliza dear, 

The maid that I adore ! 
A hodin<r voice is in mine car, 

We part to meet no more. 
But the last throb that leaves my heart, 

While death stands victor by, 
That throb, Eliza, is thy part. 

And thine that latest sijrU' 
11* 



126 BUIINS'S POEMS 



IIIGITLANl) MARY. 
Tune — " Kalharlne O^ie," 

Ye banks, and braes, ami streams around 

The castle o' Montgonicry, 
Green be your Avoods, and fair your llowerM, 

Your waters never drunilic! 
There simmer first unfauld her robes, 

And there the laniroi^t tarry ; 
For there 1 took tlie last fareweel 

O' my sweet Ilig-hland Mary. 



How sweetly bloom'd the {xay nrroen birit, 

How rich the hawthorn's blossom ; 
As underneath their fragrant shade, 

I clasp'd her to my bosom ! 
The golden hours, on angel wings, 

Flew o'er me and my dearie ; 
For dear to me as light and life 

Was my sweet Highland Mary. 



Wi* many a vow, and lock'd embrace, 

Our parting was fu' tender ; 
And, pledging afl to meet again, 

We tore oursels asunder: 
But oh ! fell death's untimely frost 

That nipt my flower sae early! 
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, 

That wraps my Highland Maiy ! 



nuRNs's roEMS. 127 

O, pale, pale now, those rosy lips, 

I aft hac kiss'd sao fondly ! 
And clos'd, for ay, tlic sparkling glance 

Tliat dwelt on ine sao kindly ! 
And niouUrrin«y now, in silent dust,, 

Tiiat heart that lo'd me dearly ! 
But still, within my bosom's core. 

Shall live my Highland Mary. 



TO MARY IN HEAVEN. 

Thou ling'rinrr star, with less'ning ray 

That lov'st to greet the early morn, 
Again thou usher'st in the day 

My Mary from my soul was torn. 
O Mary ! dear departed shade ! 

Where is thy place of blissful rest! 
Seest then thy lover lowly laid? 

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his b/cast? 

That sacred hour can I forget ? 

Can I forget the hallow'd grove, 
Where, by the winding Ayr, we met, 

To live one day of parting love? 
Eternity will not efface 

Those records dear of transports past ; 
Thy image at our last embrace ! 

Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! 

Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, 
O'erhung with wild-woods, thick'ning, green 



1^8 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Tlie fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, 
Twin'd ani'rous round the raptur'd scene. 

Tlio ilow'rs sprang wanton to be prest, 
Tlie birds sang love on ev'ry spray, 

Till too, too soon, the glowing west 
Proclaini'd the speed of winged day. 

Still o'er these scenes my niem'ry wakes, 

And fondly broods with miser care ! 
Time but th' impression deeper makes. 

As streams their channels deeper wear. 
My Mary ! dear departed shade ! 

Where is thy blissful place of rest ? 
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? 

Ilear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? 



ELEGY ON THE LATE MISS BURNET, 

OF MOiNBODDO. 

Life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize 

As Burnet, lovely, from her native skies ; 

Nor envious Death so triumpii'd in a blow, 

As that which laid tlie accomplish'd Burnet low. 

Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget ? 

In richest ore the brightest jewel set ' 

In thee, high Ileav'n above was truest sliown, 

As by his noblest work the Godhead best is known. 

In vain ye flaunt in summer's pride, ye groves ; 
Thou crystal streamlet, with thy flow'ry shore, 



BURNS'S I'OEMS. 129 

Ve woodland choir that chant your idle loves, 
Ye cease to ciiarm — Eliza is no more ! 

Vc heathy wastes, inmix'd with reedy fens, 
Ye mossy streams, with sedge and rushes stcir'd. 

Ye rugifed cliffs, o'erlianiring dreary glens, 
Tc you I fly — ye with my soul accord. 

IVinces, whose cumb'rous pride was all their worth, 
Shall venal lays their pompous exit hail ; 

And tiiou, sweet excellence! forsake our eartli. 
And not a muse in honest grief bewail ? 

We saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride, 
And virtue's light, that beams beyond the spheres , 

But, like the sun eclips'd at morning tide. 
Thou left'st us darkling in a world of tears. 

Tlie parent's heart that nestled fond in thee, 
Tliat heart how sunk, a prey to grief and care ! 

So deck'd the woodbine sweet yon aged tree; 
So from it ravish'd, leaves it bleak and bare. 



VERSES, 

ON READING, IN A NEWSPAPER, THE DEATH OF JOtt.t 
m'lEOD, ESQ., BROTHER TO A YOUNG LADY, A PAH- 
TICULAR FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR's. 

Sad thy tale, thou idle page, 

And rueful thy alarms ! 
Death tears the brother of ner love 

From Isabella's arms 



130 BUIINS'S rOEMS. 

Sweetly deck'd with peiirly dew 
The morning rose may blew ; 

But cold, successive noontide blaala 
May lay its beauties low 

Fait on Isabella's morn 
The sun propitious smil'd ; 

But, long ere noon, succeeding clouds 
Succeeding hopes beguil'd. 

Fate ofl tears the bosom chords 
That Nature finest strung; 

So Isabella's heart was form'd, 
And so that heart was wrung. 

Dread Omnipotence alone 

Can heal the wound he gave ; 

Can point the brimful, grief-worn eyes 
To scenes beyond the grave. 

Virtue's blossoms there shall blow, 
And fear no witli'ring blast; 

There Isabella's spotless worth 
Shall happy be at last 



VURNS'S POKMS. Idl 



SONNET 

on THE DEATH OF ROBERT RIDDEL, ESQ., OF OLEN 
RIDDEL, APRIL, 1794. 

No more, ye warblers of the wood, no more, 
Nor pour your descant, grating on my soul ; 
Thou young-eyed Spring, gay in thy verdant stole, 
More welcome were to ine grim Winter's wildest roar. 
How can ye charm, ye flow'rs, with all your dyes ? 
Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend ! 
How can I to the tuneful strain attend ? 
That strain flows round th' untimely tomb where Ridd(A 

lies! 
Yes, pour, ye warblers, pour the notes of wo, 
And soothe the Virtues weeping on tliis bier: 
The Man of Worth, and has not left his peer, 
Is in liis " narrow house," for ever darkly low. 
Thee, Spring, again with joy shall others greet; 
Me, mem'ry of my loss will only meet 



VERSES, 

ON THE DEATH OF SIR JAMES HUNTER BLAIR. 

The lamp of day, with ill-presaging glare. 
Dim, cloudy, sunk beneath the western wave ; 

Th' inconstant blast howl'd thro' the dark'ning air 
And hollow whistled in the rocky cave. 



132 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Lone as I AvaiulerM by each clilT and doll, 

Once the lov'd haunts of Scotia.'s royal train ;* 

Or mus'd where limpid streams, once hallow'd well,! 
Or mould'ring ruins mark tlie sacred fane;| 

Th' increasing blast roar'd round the beetling rocks, 
The clouds, swifl-wing'd, flew o'er the starry sky, 

The groaning trees untimely shed their locks, 
And shooting meteors caught the startled eye. 

The paly moon rose in the livid east. 

And 'mong the clifts disclosed a stately form, 

In weeds of wo, that frantic beat her breast, 
And niixt her wailings with the raving storm. 

Wild to my heart the filial pulses glow, 
'Twas Caledonia's trophied shield I view'd ! 

Her form majestic droop'd in pensive wo. 
The light'ning of her eye in tears inibu'd. 

Revers'd that spear, redoubtable in war, 
Reclin'd that banner, erst in fields unfurl'd, 

That like a deathful meteor gleam'd afar. 

And brav'd the mighty monarchs of tlie world. 

" My patriot son fills an untimely grave ! " 
With accents wild and lifted arms she cried, 

"Low lies the hand that oft was stretch'd to save 
Low lies the heart that swell'd with honest pride ! 

"A weeping country joins a widoAv's tear. 
The helpless poor mix with the orphan's cry ; 



• The King's Park, at Holyrood House, f St. Anthony's WelL 
t St. Anthony's Chapel. 



nURNs's POEMS. 133 

The (IroopiniT Arts surround their patron's bier, 
Aid grateful Science heaves the lieartfelt sigh. 

" I saw my sons resume their ancient fire ; 

I saw fair Freedom's blossoms richly blow; 
But ah ! how hope is born but to expire ! 

Relentless fate has laid this guardian low. 

"My patriot falls! hut shall he lie unsung", 
While empty greatness saves a worthless name ? 

No ! ev'ry muse shall join her tuneful tongue, 
And future ages hear his growing fame. 

" And I will join a mother's tender cares. 
Thro' future times to make his virtues last, 

That distant years may boast of other Blairs ! " — 
She said, and vanish'd with the sweeping blast 



ADDRESS 



ro THE SHADE OF THOMSON, OS CROWNING HIS BDSt 
AT EDNAM, BOXBUROHSHIRE, WITH BAYS. 

While virgin Spring, by Eden's flood, 
Unfolds her tender mantle green. 

Or pranks the sod in frolic mood, 
Or tunes ^olian strains between ; 

While Summer, with a matron grace. 
Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling shade, 

Yet ofl, delighted, stops to trace 
The progress of the spiky blade ; 
12 



134 BURNS'S rOEMS. 

While Autuiim, benefactor kind, 
By Tweed erects his aged head, 

And sees, witli self-approving mind, 
Each creature on his bounty fed ; 

While maniac Winter rages o'er 

Tiie hills whence classic Yarrow floivs. 

Rousing the turbid torrent's roar, 

Or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows 

So long, sweet poet of the year. 

Shall bloom that wreath thou well hast won ; 

While Scotia, with exulting tear. 

Proclaims that Thomson was her son! 



EPITAPH 

FOR THE author's FATHER. 

O YE, whose cheek the tear of pity stains. 
Draw near with pious rev'rence, and attend; 

Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, 
The tender father, and the gen'rous friend. 

The pitying heart that felt for human wo; 

The dauntless he.irt that fear'd no human pnde; 
The friend of man, to vice alone a foe, 

" For ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side."* 

* Goldsmith 



RUHNS S I'OKMS. 



135 



FOR R. A., ESQ. 

Know thou, O stranf^cr to tlie fame 
Of this mucli lov'd, much honor'd name; 
(For none that knew him need be told,) 
A warmer heart Death ne'er made cold. 



ON A FRIEND. 

An honest man here lies at rest, 
As e'er God with his image blest ; 
The friend of man, the friend of truth ; 
The friend of age, the guide of youth : 
Few hearts, like his, with virtue warm'd, 
Few heads with knowledge so inform'd ; 
If there's another world, he lives in bliss ; 
If there is none, he made the best of this. 



A BARD'S EPITAPH. 

Is there a whim-inspir'd fool, 
Owre fast for tijonght, owre hot for rule, 
Owre blate to sei.^k, own? proud to snool, 
Let him draw near: 



136 BURNS'S POEMS. 

And owre this grassy heap sing dool, 
And drap a tear. 

Is there a bard of rustic song-, 

Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, 

That weekly this area throng, 

O, pass not by ! 
But, with a frater-feeling strong. 

Here heave a sigh. 

Is there a man whose judgment clear, 
Can others teach the course to steer, 
Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, 

Wild as the wave ; 
Here pause, — and, thro' the starting tear, 

Survey this grave. 

The poor inhabitant below 

Was quick to learn and wise to know. 

And keenly felt the friendly glow, 

And softer flame ; 
But thoughtless follies laid him low, 

And stain'd his naiTie ♦ 

Reader, attend — whether thy soul 
Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole. 
Or darkly grubs this earthly hole, 

In low pursuit ; 
Know, prudent, cautious self-control 

Is wisdom's root 



BURNS'S rOEMS. 137 



VERSES 

ON THE BIRTH OF A POSTHUMOUS CHILD, BORN III 
PECULIAR CIRCUMSTANCES OF FAMILY DISTRESS. 

Sweet flowret, pledge o*^ meikle love, 

And ward o' monie a pr.iy'r, 
What heart o' stane wad thou na move, 

Sae helpless, sweet, and fair! 

November hirples o'er the lea. 

Chill on thy lovely form ; 
And gane, alas ! the shelt'ring tree, 

Should shield thee frae the storm. 

May He who gives the rain to pour, 

And wings the blast to blaw, 
Protect thee frae the driving show'r. 

The bitter frost and snaw ! 

May He, the friend of wo and want, 
Who heals life's various stounds, 

Protect and guard the mother-plant, 
And heal her cruel wounds. 

But late she flourish'd, rooted fast. 

Fair on the summer morn ; 
Now, feebly bends she in the blast, 

Unshelter'd and forlorn. 

Blest be thy bloom, thou lovely gem, 

Unscath'd by ruffian hand ; 
And from thee many a parent stem 

Arise to deck our land. 
12* 



\:]H HIIRNS'S rOKMS 



LINKS 

QV SCARIIVO aOMK WATKU-FOWr, IIN LOCII TURIT, A WIL» 
SCENE AMONG THE llILl.S OF OUOllTKKTYRK. 

Why, yc lonants of Iho lnlvO, 
For iHO your wat'ry liaunt forsake ? 
Tell me, fcllow-croiit.iH-oa, wliy 
At my prcsoiico thus you lly ? 
Why disturb your social joys, 
Parout, filial, kindred tics? 
Couunon friend to you and me, 
Nature's gifts to all are free ! 
Peaceful keep your diniplin<r wave, 
IJusy feed or wanton lave ; 
Or, Ixmoath the shoU'rijiijf rock, 
]Jido the sur«2^in<^ billow's shock. 

Conscious, blushiuuf for our race. 
Soon, too soon, your foars I trace; 
Man, your proud, usurpiuf]^ foe, 
Would bo lord of all below ; 
Plumes himself in Freedom's prido. 
Tyrant stern to all beside. 

The eao'le from the clifly brow 
]Markin<r you, his j)rey below. 
In his breast no pity dui'lls. 
Strong' necessity compels , 
But man, to whom alone is piv'n 
A ray direct from i)ityin^ lleav'ii, 



KURNS'S rOF.MS. 131) 

Glorios ill hia lioart hiiimino, 

And croaturcs for liis pleasure slain ! 

In tlioae savage, liciuid i)lains, 
Only known to wand'ring swains, 
Where the inosny riv'let strays, 
Far from human haunts and ways, 
All on Nature you depend, 
And life's poor Kcnson jieaceful spend 

Or, if man's superior might 
Dare invade your native right, 
On the lofly ether home, 
Man with all his powers you scorn ; 
Swiftly seek, on clanging wings, 
Other lakes and other springs; 
And the foe you cumiot hrave, 
Heorn at least to he his slave. 



SONNET 



WRITTKN fHV THK 25tH OK .lAlVUAIlV, I7!K3, TIIK HIRTIl. 
DAT OF THK AUTHOR, ON MKARINU A THRUSH, IN 4 
RIORNINU WALK. 

SiNo on, sweet thrush, upon tlu; leafless hough; 

Sing on, sweet hird, I listen tf) thy strain; 

See ! aged Winter, 'inid his surly reign. 

At thy hlithe carol, clears his furrow'd hrow ; 

So, in lone Poverty's dominion drear, 

Sits meek Content, with light, unanxious heart. 



140 BURNS'S rOEMS. 

Welcomes the rapid momenta, bids them part, 
Nor asks if they hnng aught to hope or fear. 
I tliank thee. Author of this op'ninfr day, 
Thou wliose hrij^ht sun now gilds yon orient skies! 
Riches denied, thy boon was purer joys, 
What wealth could never <]^ive nor take away ! 
Vet come, thou cliild of poverty and care ; 
The mite iiigh Ileav'n bestowM, that mite with thee I'll 
share 



ON SI^NSIRILITY. 

VO MY PFATv \M> MUCH HONOREO FKIE.ND, MRS. DUrf« 
LOl'. OK lU-.M.OI'. 

Sensibility ! how charming-, 

Thim, my friend, canst truly tell; 

But distress, M-jtli Iumtovs arniinix, 
Tluni hast also known too well. 

Fairest ilower, beliold the lily, 

IJloominir in the sunny ray ; 
Let the blast sweep o'er the valley, 

See it prostrate on the clay. 

Hear the wood-lark charm the forest, 

Tellino; o'er his little joys ; 
Hapless bird ! a prey the surest 

To each pirate of the skies. 

Dearly bouoht the hidden treasure, 

Finer feelings can bestow ; 
Chords tliat vibrate sweetest pleasure, 

Thrill the deepest notes of wo. 



BURNS a rOLlMM. 



Ill 



TO A MOUSK, 

ON TUHNINO MKK HI' IN HICK Ni:ST, Willi TlIK IM.OUGtlf 
NOVKIMHKU, 1785. 

Wek, Hloukit, CDw'riii, liin'roiiH boastio! 
C), wliiit a panic'a in tiiy hrciistio! 
Thou need nao Htart awa sac liaaty, 

Wi' bickerin brattlo ! 
I wad bo laith to rin an' cliaso theo, 

Wi' nmrd'rino' paltlo ! 

I truly Horiow man's douiinion 
Han broken Nature's social union, 
An' juBtilies that ill opinion 

Which makes thee startle 
At nic, thy poor earth-born companion, 

An' follow-mortal ! 

I doubt na, whyie.s but thou may thieve! 
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! 
A daimen-ickor in a thravc 

'S a sum' request: 
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, 

And never miss't! 

Thy wee bit iiounie, too, in ruin ! 
Its silly wa's the win's arc strowin ; 
An' nacthiug-, now, to big a new ane, 

O' foggago green ; 
An' bleak December win's cnsuin, 

Uaith sncll and keen' 



il2 BUllNS's rOF.MS. 

Thou vsaw the liokls hiiil bare an' waste, 
An' weary winter coniin' fast, 
An' cozie here, beneath the bhist, 

Thou thouglit to dwell, 
Till, crash! the cruel coulter past 

Out thro' thy cell. 

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble 
Has cost thee nionie a weary nibble! 
Now tliou'st turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, 

But iiouse or hakl, 
To tliole the winter's sleety dribble, 

An' cranreuch cauld ! 

But, niousie, thou art no thy lane, 
In proving foresight may be vain ; 
The best laid scheme o' mice an' men. 

Gang atl a-gley, 
An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain 

For promis'd joy. 

Still tJiou art blest, compar'd wi' me ! 
The present only toucheth thee ; 
But, och ! 1 backward cast my e'e, 

On prospects drear ! 
An' forward, tho' I canna see, 

1 miess an' fear' 



BCRNS'S POEMS. 143 



TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY, 

ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH TIN: I'LOUOII, IN 
AI'RIL, 178(3. 

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped llow'r, 
Thou'st met me in an evil hour; 
For 1 maun crusli aman^^ the stouro 

Thy slender stem ; 
To soare thee now is past my pow'r, 

Thou bonic gem. 

Alas ! it's no thy neehor sweet, 
Tlie bonie Lark, companion meet, 
Bending tliee 'mang* the dewy weet, 

Wi' speckled breast, 
When upward-springing, blithe, to greet 

The pur])ling east. 

Cauld blew the bitter-biting North 
Upon tliy early, humble birtii; 
Yet cheerfully tliou glinted forth 

Amid the storm, 
Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth 

Thy tender form. 

The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, 
High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield; 
But thou, beneath the random bield 

O' clod or stane. 
Adorns the histie stibble-field, 

Unaeen, alane. 



144 BURNS'S POEMS. 

There, in tliy scanty mantle clad, 
Thy snawie bosom sunward spread, 
Thou lifts thy unassuming head, 

In humble guise ; 
But now the share uptears thy bed, 

And low thou lies! 

Such is the fate of artless maid. 
Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! 
By love's simplicity betray'd, 

And guileless trust; 
Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid 

Low i' the dust 

Such is the fate of simple bard. 

On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd ; 

Unskillful he to note the card 

Of prudent lore, 
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, 

And wliclm him o'er. 

Such fate to sulT'nng worth is giv'n. 

Who long with wants and woes has striv'n^ 

By human pride or cunning driv'n 

To misery's brink ; 
Till, wrench'd of ev'ry stay but Ileav'n, 

He, ruin'd, sink ! 

Ev'n thou who mourn'd the daisy's fate, 
That fate is thine — no distant date ; 
Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate, 

Full on thy bloom; 
Till, crush'd beneath the furrow's weigh* 

Shall be thy doom. 



BURNS*S POEMS. 145 



THE HUMBLE PETITION OF BRUAR WATER/ 

TO THE NOBLE DUKE OF ATHOLE. 

My lord, I know your noble car 

Wo ne'er assails in vain : 
Emboldcn'd thus, I beg you'll hear 

Your humble slave complain, — 
How saucy Phoebus' scorching beams, 

In flaming summer-pride, 
Dry-with'ring, waste my foamy streams, 

And drink^my crystal tide. 

The lightly-jumping, glowrin trouts, 

That thro' my waters play, 
If, in their random, wanton spouts, 

They near the margin stray ; 
If, hapless chance, they linger lang, 

I'm scorching up so shallow, 
They're left the whit'ning stanes amang, 

In gasping death to wallow. 

Last day I giat wi' spite and teen, 

As Poet B**** came by, 
That, to a bard, I should be seen 

Wi' half my channel dry ; 
A panegyric rhyme, 1 ween, 

Ev'n as I was, he shor'd me ; 



• Bruar Fallc, in Alhole, are exceedingly pictiiresqito and beauuM 
bul their efleci it much impaired by the want of trees and shrubs. 

13 



l4b BURNS'S rOEMS. 

But, had I in my i^^lory been, 
lie, liMcelii)<x> ^\'iHl fiilor'd mo. 

Here, foaming- down tlio shclvy rocks, 

In twistingr st.reng'tli I rin ; 
There, hi^h my boilin<^ torrent smokes' 

Wild-roaring o'er a linn: 
Enjoying- larj^e each spring and well, 

As natnre gave them me, 
I am, altho' I say't mysel. 

Worth gaun a mile to see. 

Wonld then my noble master please 

To grant my highest wishes, 
He'll shade njy banks wi' tow'ring tre*' 

And bonie spreading bushes ; 
Delighted donbly, then, my lord.. 

You'll wander on my banks. 
And listen monie a grateful bird 

Return you tuneful thanks. 

The sober lav'rock, warbling wild, 

Shall to the skies aspire ; 
The gowdspink, music's gayest chiL' 

Shall sweetly join the choir; 
Tlie blackbird strong, the lintwhite "* 

The mavis mild and mellow ; 
The robin pensive autumn cheer, 

In all her looks of yellow : 

This, too, a covert shall ensure. 

To shield tliem from the storm 
And coward maukin sleep secure, 

Low in her grassy' form ; 



HUKiNs's I'OKMS. 147 

Here shall tliu shepherd make hia seat, 

To weave his crown of llow'rs ; 
Or find ii 8helt'riii<{, Hafo retreat, 

From prone descending show'rs 

And here, by sweet endearing stealth. 

Shall nieet the loving |)air, 
Despising word.s, with all their wealth. 

As empty, idle care. 
The flow'rs sliall vie in all their charma 

The hour of heav'n to grace. 
And birks extend their fragrant arms. 

To screen the dear embrace. 

Here haply, too, at vernal dawn. 

Some musing bard may stray, 
And eye the smoking, dewy lawn, 

And misty mountain gray ; 
Or, by the reaper's nightly beam, 

Mild cheqn'ring thro' the trees, 
Rave to my darkly-dashing stream, 

Hoarse-swelling on the breeiie. 

Let lofty fn-s, and ashes cool. 

My lowly banks o'orspread, 
And view, deep-bending in the pool, 

Their shadows' wat'ry bed ; 
Let fragrant birks, in woodbines dreat, 

My craggy clifls adorn ; 
And, for the little songster's nest, 

The close cmbow'ring thorn. 

So may old Scotia's darling hope, 
Your little angel band, 



148 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Spring, like their fathers, up to jirop 
Their honor'd native land. 

So may, thro' Albion's farthest ken, 
To social flowing: glasses. 

The grace be — " Athole's honest men, 
And Athole's bonie lasses!" 



VERSES 



ON SEEING A WOUNDED HARE LIMP EY ME, WHICH 4 
FELLOW HAD JUST SHOT AT. 

Inhuman man! curse on thy barb'rous art, 
And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye: 
May never pity sootlie thee with a sigh. 

Nor ever pleasure glad thy cruel heart ' 

Go, live, poor wand'rcr of the wood and field, 

The bitter little that of life remains ; 

No more the tliick'ning brakes, and verdant plains. 
To tliee shall home, or food, or pastime yield. 

Seek, mangled wretch, some place of wonted rest, 
No more of rest, but now thy dying bed ! 
The shelt'ring rushes whistling o'er thy head. 

The cold earth with thy bloody bosom prest 

Oft, as by winding Nith I musing wait 
The sober eve, or hail the cheerful dawn, 
I'll miss thee sporting o'er the de\vy lawn. 

And curse the ruffian's aim, and mourn thy hapless fata. 



UURNS S FORMS. 140 



LINES 

WRITTJ'.iN WITH A PENCIL, OVER THE CHIMNEY-PIECE, 
IN THE PARLOR OF THE INN AT KENMORE, TAY- 
MOUTH. 

Admiring Nature in her wildest grace, 

These northern scenes with weary feet I trace ; 

O'er many a windinfr dale and painful steep, 

Th' abodes of covcy'd grouse and timid sheep, 

My savage journey, curious, T pursue, 

rill fam'd Breadalbane opens to my view. 

The meeting clitl's each deep-sunk glen divides, 

The woods, wild-scatter'd, clothe their ample sides; 

Th' outstretching lake, cmbosom'd 'inong the hills, 

The eye with wonder and amazement tills ; 

The Tay, meand'ring sweet, in infant pride. 

The palace rising on his verdant side ; 

The lawns wood-fring'd in Nature's native taste ; 

The hillocks dropt in Nature's careless haste ; 

The arches striding o'er the new-born stream ; 

'J'lie village glitt'ring in the noontide beam — 



Poetic ardors in my bopom swell. 

Lone, wand'ring by the hermit's mossy cell: 

The sweeping theatre of hanging woods ; 

Th' incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods 



Here Poesy might wake her heav'n-taught lyre, 
And look thro^ Nature with creative fire ; 
13* 



150 uiniNs's roF.MS. 

Hero, to tlio M'roMj!^^ of I'"";itc half rcconcilM, 
Mi8fortuii«>'s liniit(M>M steps might wander wild; 
Anil Disappointmeiit, in those kmely bonniU-^, 
Find halm t*) sixMhe Iier hitter, ranldinti^ wounds; 
Hero h(Mrl striu'k (J riot" ini<;;ht heavenward stretch ho. 

(^(•an. 
And iiijiirM W'oilh lor^et and pardon num. 



IdNF.S 



WIMTTK.N Wmi A ri'.NCII., STAN MI NO 11 Y rilK JAl.I. OF 
KYKlvS, IVKAU I.OOn-M-.SS, 

Amom! the hiNithy hills and raoi)t>d wooils, 

'IMie roarini];" I'^ycrs pours his iiu>ssy floods ; 

Till lull he dashes on the rocky mounds, 

Wiiorc, through a shapeh-'ss breach, his stream resounds 

As high in air the bursting torrents flow, 

Aa deep recoiling siu'ges loam below. 

Prone down the rock the whitening shet^t descends, 

And viewless I'Vho's ear, avStonishM, rends. 

Dim-soon, through rising mists and ceaseless show'rs, 

The hoary cavern, wide-surrounding, low'rs. 

Still tiu'o' the gaj) the struggling river toils. 

And still below the horritl cauldron boils — 



KOOK III. 

FAMILIAlt AND EPISTOLAltY. 
TO M[SS CRUTCKSHANKS, 

A VKKY YOUNd I.ADY, WIMTTKIV ON TIIK Itl.ANK LKA^ 

OK A HOOK, I'KKSr.NTr.l) TO IIICR I5Y TIIK AlITHOH. 

IJkautkous ros('-l)ii(l, j'ouDnr mill <.niy, 
JJlooniinnf on thy curly Miiy, 
Never inuy'Ht thou, lovely llower, 
Chilly tthrlnk in slecity Hhow'r! 
Never Boreiia' lioiiry piilh. 
Never PiUrus' pois'nous hreath, 
Never baleful stellar lip^htH, 
Taint thee with untimely bIi<rhtH. 
Never, never roj)tiIe tiiief 
Riot on thy virj^in leaf! 
Nor even 8ol too liercely vi<iw 
Tiiy bosom hluKhin^j Htill with dew! 



May'fit thou lonfr, sweet crimson gem, 
Richly (lock thy niitive stem ; 
Till some evenin^r, sober, calm, 
Droppinf*- dews, and breathing balm. 
While all around the woodland ringi, 
And vv\y bird (Uy requiem sings; 



152 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Thou, amid the dirgeful sound, 

Shed thy dying honors round, 

And resign to parent earth 

The loveliest form she e'er gave birth. 



VERSES 



ON A YOUNG LADY, RESIDING ON THE BANKS OF THE 
SMALL RIVER DEVON, IN CLACKMANNANSHIRE, BUT 
WHOSE INFANT YEARS WERE SPENT IN AYRSHIRE 

How pleasant the banks of the clear-winding Devon, 
With green spreading bushes, and flow'rs blooming 
fair ; 

But the boniest flow'r on the banks of the Devon 
Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr. 

Mild be the sun on this sweet-blushing flower, 
In the gay, rosy morn, as it bathes in the dew ! 

And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower, 
That steals on the evening each leaf to renew. 

O, spare the dear blossom, ye orient breezes, 
With chill, hoary wing, as ye usher the dawn! 

And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes 
The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn. 

Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded lilies. 

And England triumphant display her proud rose; 

A fairer than either adorns the green valleys 
Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 153 



TO MISS L , 

WITH BEATTIe's FOEMS AS A NEW-YEAR*S GIFT, 'AM 
UARY 1, 1787. 

Again the silent wheels of time 
Their annual round have driv'n, 

And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime, 
Are so much nearer heav'n. 

No gifts have I, from Indian coasts, 

The infant year to hail ; 
I send you more than India boasts, 

In Edwin's simple tale. 

Our sex with guile and faithless love 

Is charg'd, perhaps too true ; 
But may, dear maid, each lover prove 

An Edwin still to you. 



VERSES 

TO A YOUNG LADY, WITH A PRESENT OF SONGS, 

Here, where the Scottish muse immortal lives, 
In sacred strains and tuneful numbers join'd, 

Accept the gift; tho' humble he who gives. 
Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind. 



54 BURNS'S rOEMS. 

So may no ruffia.n-feeling in thy breast 
Discordant jar thy bosom-chords among; 

But peace attune thy gentle soul to rest, 
Or love ecstatic wake his seraph song: 

Or pity's notes, in luxury of tears, 

As modest want the tale of wo reveals ; 

While conscious virtue all the strain endears, 
And heav'n-born p'.ety her sanction seals. 



VERSES 



H-RITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A COPY OF HIS 
POEMS, PRESENTED TO A LADY, WHOM HE HAD OP- 
TEN CELEBRATED UNDER THE NAME OF CHLORIS. 

'Tis Friendship's pledge, my young, fair friend, 

Nor thou the gift refuse. 
Nor with unwilling ear attend 

The moralizing muse. 

Since thou, in all thy youth and charms, 

Must bid the world adieu, 
(A world 'gainst peace in constant arms,) 

To join the friendly few ; 

Since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast. 

Chill came the tempest's lower ; 
(And ne'er misfortune's eastern bias 

Did nip a fairer flow'r ;) 



BURNS'S POEMS. 155 

Since life's gay scenes must charm no more, 

StiL much is left behind; 
Still nobler wealth hast thou in store, — 

7'he comforts of the mind ! 

Thine is the self-approving glow, 

On con^ious honor's part ; 
And, dearest gift of Heav'n below. 

Thine friendship's truest heart. 

The joys refin'd of sense and taste, 

With every muse to rove ; 
And doubly were the Poet blest, 

These joys could he improve. 



TO A YOUNG LADY, 

MISS JESSY L , DUMFRIES ; WITH BOOKS WHICl 

THE BARD PRESEMTED HER. 

Thiive be the volumes, Jessy fair, 
And with them take the Poet's prayer; 
That Fate may, in her fairest page. 
With ev'ry kindliest, best presage 
Of future bliss, enrol thy name. 
With native worth and spotless fame. 
And wakeful caution, still aware 
Of ill — but chief, man's felon snare ; 
All blameless joys on earth we find, 
And all the treasures of the mind : 
These be thy guardian and reward, 
So prays thy faithful friend, the Bard. 



15(1 BURNS'S POEMS 



VERSES 

WTRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A, COPY OF 1119 
POEMS, PRESENTED TO AN OLD SWEETHEART, THEN 
MARRIED. 

Once fondly lov'd, and still rcniembor'd dear, 

Sweet early object of my youthful vows, 
Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere, — 

Friendship! — 'tis all cold duty now allows: 
And when you read the simple, artless rhymes. 

One friendly si^rh for him, he asks no more. 
Who distant burns in flaminir, torrid climes, 

Or haply lies beneath the Atlantic roar. 



TO J. S****. 



Friendship! mysierioiis cement of the soul, 

JSweel'ner of life, nnd solder of society! 

I owe thee much. Bla.ib. 

Dear S****, the sleest, paukie thief, 
That e'er attempted stealth or rief. 
Ye surely hae some warlock-brecf 

Owre human hearts ; 
For ne'er a bosom yet was prief 

Against your arta. 

For me, I swear by sun and moon, 
And cv'ry star that blinks aboon, 



BURNS'S P0EBI3. 157 

Yo've cost me t^venty pair o' shoon, 
Just gaun to see you; 

And ov'ry ither pair that's done, 

Mair ta'cn I'm wi' you. 

That auld capricious carlin, Nature, 
To mak amends for scrimpit stature, 
She's turn'd you afF' a human creature 

On her first plan, 
And in her freaks, on ev'ry feature. 

She's wrote the Man. 

Just now I've ta'en tiie fit o' rhyme, 
My barmie noddle's working- prime, 
My fancie yerkite up sublime, 

Wi' hasty summon; 
Ilae ye a leisure moment's time 

To hear what's comin ^ 

Some rhyme, a neebor's name to lash; 
Some rhyme, (vain thought !) for needfu' cash 
Some rhyme to court the countra clash, 

An' raise a din ; 
For me, an aim I never fash ; 

I rhyme for fun ! 

The star that rules my luckless lot. 

Has fated me the russet coat, 

And damn'd my fortune to the groat 

But in requit. 
Has bless'd me wi' a random shot 

O' countra wit. 

This while my notion's ta'en a sklent, 
To try my fate in guid black prent ; 
14 



158 BURNS'S POEMS. 

But still the nmir I'm that way bout, 
Somothiny; cries, " lloolie 

I reile you, honest man, tak tent ! 
Ye'll shaw your folly. 

" There's ither poets, much your betters, 
Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters, 
Hae thought they had insur'd their debtors 

A' future ages ; — 
Now moths deform, in shapeless tattei-s, 

Their unknown pages." 

Then fareweel hopes o' laurel-boughs, 
To garland my poetic brows ! 
Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs 

Are whistling tlu'ang, 
An' teach tlie lanely heights and howes 

My rustic sang. 

I'll wander on wi' tentless heed, 
How never-halting moments speed, 
Till tate shall snap the brittle thread; 

Then, all unknown, 
I'll lay mo witJi th' inglorious dead, 

Forgot and gone ! 

But why, O Death, begin, a tale ? 

Just now we're living, sound, and hale! 

Then top and maintop crowd the sail, - 

Heave Care o'er-side ! 
And large, before Enjoyment's gale. 

Let's tak the tide. 

This life, sae far's I understand 
Is a' enchanted, fairy land. 



IIURNS'S IMJKIMS. 15& 

Where Pleasure is tlie ii);i<j;ic w;iml 

Tliat, wielded ri'jlit, 
Muks hours, like uiinut.es, hiuul in luuid, 

Diuice hy fu' li^^ht. 

The maj^ic wand then let us winid, 
For, ance tliat (ive-an'-forly's speelM, 
See crazy, weary, joyless Eild, 

Wi' wrinklod face, 
Comes hostin, hirplin owre tiie field, 

VVi* crcepin puce. 

When ance life's day draws near the gloaujin, 
Tlien faroweel V!icar\t, careless roainin, 
An' fareweel checri'u' tankards foaniin, 

An' social noise ; 
An' fareweel dear, deluding' Woman, 

The joy of joys ! 

O life! how {)leasant in thy mornin<jf ! 
Younf^ Fancy's rays the hills ad()ruiii<^'! 
Cold, pausing Caution's lessons scormug, 

We frisk away. 
Like school-hoys, at th' expected warning 

To joy and play. 

We wander there, we wander here. 
We eye the rose uj)on the brier, 
Unmindful that the thorn is near. 

Among the leaves ; 
And, though the puny wound appear, 

Short wliile it grieves. 

Some, lucky, find a fiow'ry spot, 

For which they never toil'd nor swat ; 



160 BURKS'S POEMS. 

They drink tlie sweet, and eat the fat. 

But care or pain; 
And haply eye the harren hut 

With high disdain. 

Wi'ii steady aim, some Fortune chase ; 
Keen Hope does ev'ry sinew brace ; 
Thro' fair, thro' foul, they urge the race, 

And seize the prey ; 
Then canie, in some cozie place, 

They close the day. 

And others, like your humble servan', 
Poor wights ! nae rules nor roads obser\ 
To right or left eternal swervin. 

They zig-zag on ; 
Till curst with age, obscure an' starvin, 

They aften groan. 

Alas ! what bitter toil an' straining — 
IJut, truce with peevish, poor complaining 
Is Fortune's tickle Luna waning.^ 

E'en let her gang ! 
Beneath what light she has remai.- Ing, 

Let's sing our sang. 

My pen I here iling to the door. 

And kneel, " Ye Powers ! " and warn •••iiplorf 

"Tho' I should wander Terra o'er, 

In all her climes, 
Grant me but this, I ask no more. 

Ay rowth o' rhymes. 

"Gie dreeping roasts to countra lairds 
Till icicles hing frae their boards 



BDRNS'S POEMS. 16J 

Gie fine braw claos to fine Lifo-Guards, 
And Maids o' Honor; 

And yill an' whiskey gie to Cairds, 
Until they sconner. % 

" A title, Dempster merits it ; 
A garter gie to Willie Pitt; 
(lie wealth to some beleger'd cit, 

In cent, per cent. ; 
But gie me real, sterling wit, 

And I'm content. 

" While ye are pleas'd to keep me hale, 
I'll sit down o'er my scanty meal, 
Bc't water-brose, or muslin-kail, 

Wi' cheerfu' face. 
As lang's the Muses dinna fail 

To say the grace." 

An anxious e'e I never throws 
Behint my lug, or by my nose ; 
I jouk beneath Misfortune's blows 

As weel's I may ; 
Sworn foe to Sorrow, Care, and Proae, 

I rhyme away. 

O ye douce folk, that live by rule, 
Grave, tideless-bloody, calm, and cool, 
Compar'd wi' you — O fool ! fool ! fool ' 

How much unlike ! 
Your hearts are just a standing pool ; 

Your lives, a dyke! 

Nae hair-brain'd, sentimental traces 
In your unletter'd nameless faces, 
j4# 



162 BURNS'S rOEMS 

In arioso trills and graces 

Ye never stray; 
But, gravissimo, solemn basses 
# Ye hum away. 

Ye are sae g^rave, nae doubt yeVe wise ; 

Nae ferly tho' ye do despise 

The hairum scairum, ram-stam boys, 

The rattlin squad: 
I see you upward cast your eyes — 

Ye ken the road. 

Whilst I — but I shall baud me there — 
Wi' you I'll scarce gang ony where; 
Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair, 

But quat my sang. 
Content wi' you to mak a pair, 

Whare'er I gang. 



EPISTLE TO DAVIE, 

A BROTHER POET.* 

January^ — - • 

While winds frae aff Ben-Lomond blaw, 
And bar the doors wi' driving snaw, 

And hing us owre the ingle, 
I sit me down to pass the time. 
And spin a verse or twa o' rhyme, 

In hamely westlin jingle. 

• David Sillar, one of the Club at Tarbolton, and author of a volume 
rf Poems in the Scottish dialect. 



BTJRNS'S POEMS. 163 

While frosty winds blaw in the drift, 

Ben to the chinila \ng, 
I grudge a wee the great folks' gift. 
That live sae bien and snug : 
I tent less, and want less, 

Their roomy fire-side; 
But hanker and canker, 
To see their cursed pride. 



It's hardly in a body's pow'r 

To keep at times frae being sour 

To see how things are shar'd ; 
How best o' chiels are whiles in want, 
While coofs on countless thousands rant, 

And ken na how to wair't: 
But, Davie, lad, ne'er fash your head, 

Tho' we hae little gear. 
We're fit to win our daily bread, 

As lang's were hale and fier; 
"Mair spier na, no fear na,"* 
Auld age ne'er mind a feg, 



The last o't, the warst o't, 
Is only for to beg. 



To lie m kilns and barns at e'en, 
When banes are craz'd and bluid is thin. 

Is, doubtless, great distress ! 
Yet then content could make us blest; 
Ev'n tlien, sometimes we'd snatch a taste 

Of truest happiness. 
The honest heart that's free frae a' 



Ramsay 



IC^-i BURNS'S POEMS. 

Intentlofl fraud or cruilo, 
However F'ortune kick the ba*, 
Has ay some cause to smile; 
And mind still, you'll find still, 

A comfort tliis nae sma'; 
Nae mair then, we'll care then, 
Nae farther can we fa'. 



What tho', like commonei-s of air, 
We wander out we know not where. 

But eitlier house or hal' ! 
Yet nature's charms, the hills and woods, 
The sweeping vales and foaming floods, 

Are free alike to all. 
In days M-lien daisies deck the ground. 

And blackbirds whistle clear, 
Witli honest joy our hearts will bound, 
To see the coming year : 

On braes when we please, then, 

We'll sit an' sowth a tune ; 
Syne rhyme till't, we'll time till't, 
And sinof't wiion we hae done. 



It's no in titles nor in rank, 

It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank, 

To purchase peace and rest ; 
It's no in makin muckle mair. 
It's no in books, it's no in lear, 

To make us truly blest; 
If happiness hae not her seat 

And centre in the breast. 
We may be wise, or rich, or great. 

But never can be blest: 



HUKNS'S POKMS. 155 

Nae troasurca, nor pleasures, 

Could rnako us happy lan<^; 
The heart's ay tiic part ay 

That makes us right or wrang. 



Think ye, that sic as you and T, 

VVha drudge an' drive thro' wet an' dry, 

VVi' never ceasing- toil ; 
Think ye, are we less blest than tliey, 
Wha scarcly tent us in their way, 

As hardly worth their while ? 
Alas! how all, in haughty mood, 

God's creatures they oppress ! 
Or else, neglecting a' that's guid. 
They riot in excess ! 

Baith careless and fearless 
Of either heav'n or hell ! 
Esteeming, and deeming 
It's a' an idle tale ! 



Then let us clieerfu' acquiesce, 
Nor make our scanty pleasures less, 

By pining at our state ; 
And, even should misfortunes come, 
I, here wha sit, hae met wi' some, 

An' 's thankfu' for them yet. 
They gie the wit of a^e to youth ; 

They let us ken oursel , 
They make us see tlie naked truth. 

The real guid and ill. 
Tlio' losses and crosses 
Be lessons right severe. 



166 BURNS'S POEMS. 

There's wit thoro, yc'll j]fot there, 
Yo'll tiiul na othor wliere. 



But tent mc, Davie, ace o' hearts! 

(To say aijo;lit loss wad wrang tlio cartes, 

Ami Ihitt'ry I detest ;) 
This life has joys tor you and I ; 
And joys that riches ne'er could buy ; 

And joys the very best. 
There's a' tiie pleasures o' the heart, 

The lover an' the trieu' : 
Ye hae your Mefj, your dearest part, 
And I my dariinijf Jean ! 
It warms me, it charms mo, 

To mention but lier name : 
It heats me, it beets me, 
And sets me a' on flame' 



O, all ye Pow'rs who rule above! 
(.) Thou, wliose very self art love ! 
Thou know'st my words sincere! 
The life-blood streaminji: thro' my heart. 
Or my mort» dear immortal part. 

Is not more fondly dear : 
When heart-oorrodiuijf care and grief 

Deprive my soul of rest, 
Her dear idea briui>:s relief 
Anil solace to my breast. 
Thou lieing, All-seein«r, 

O hear my fervent pray'r: 
Still take her, and make her 
Thy most peculiar care ' 



IMMINS'S r'OKIMH. 1C~ 



All hail, yo t,(Mi(lor fc^olinfra (l(Mir! 
Tlio siuilo of lovo, the friendly tour, 

'^IMio Hyni|)atli('t,ic- ^lovv; 
Lonjif KJiicc, this world's thorny wnys 
Had numhiM-M out iiiy wciiry dayn, 

Hud it not hcon for yon ! 
Fate still Iiuh hlcst mo with a friend, 

In every care and ill ; 
And otl u more (Midearin^j;- hand, 
A tie more; tiMider Ktill. 
It lijrhtons, il hii<r|it(!iKS, 
The fenchnlic scene, 
To nicoj. with, juid ^ri'cit with, 
My Davie or my .Iijan. 



(), how that nauK^ inspin^H my style! 
The words conn; .skclpin rank and lilc, 

Amaist hefore I ken! 
The ready moasnre rins as fine, 
As PluL'hu.s and the famous Nino 

Were jrlowrin owre my pen. 
My spaviet Pefjasus will limp, 

'J'ill ance he's fairly het; 
And then he'll hilch, and stilt, and jimp, 
An' rin an unco fit : 

But lest then, the heast then, 
Siiould ruo this hasty ride, 
I'll li«(ht now, and dijj^ht now, 
His sweaty, wizen'd hide. 



168 



BURN1 S POEMS 



TO THE ISAME. 



AlILl) NKKHOU, 



I'm IIutH> tiiiirs (lt>iil)ty oVr your <l«'ht(>r, 
For your miUl-tiirraiit, tVion'ly loUor, 
Tlio' I maun siiy't, \ doubt yc Hatter, 

^^> spt'ak sac fair ; 
Fov u»y |)uir, silly, rhyuiiu' clatter, 

Soiuo loss maun sair. 

Ijalc bo your lio;ut, liab^ bo your fuldlo ; 
\ji\ug may your olbuok Jink ami didillo, 
To clioor you thro' tlx? woary widiUo 

()' war'lv cares, 
'I'ill biiirns' bnirns kindly cuddU> 

^'our auld {^ray hairs. 

Hut, Davie, lad, Tni red ye'ro jj^laikit ; 
I'm tauld tho Muse yc hac notjflockit, 
An' ijfif it's sa(\ yo su<l bo lickot 

Until yo tyko; 
Sic hauns as you sud ne'er bo taikit, 

He hain't wha like. 

For me, Tin on Tarnassus' brink, 
Rivin tho words tao jjar thorn clink ; 
Whylos dnoz't wi' b>vc, Avliylos dae/.'t ui' diink, 

VVi' jads or masons; 
An' whyli's, but ay owro late, I think 

.Uraw sober lessons. 



lUlltNS'S I'Or.MS. 1(J9 

Of a' t.lio t,li()ii<r)it,I(jHH HODH <)' !nnn, 
Common' mo 1,0 tlio Bardio clan ; 
Excoj)l il l)o Homo idio i)liin 

()' rliymiii' oliiik, 
Tlio (lovil-haot, that I himI l»an, 

1'Ii(;y over think. 

Na«j thoujL^ht, nau viow, nao schomo o' livin', 
Nao CJiroH tao jj^io uh joy or {rrinvin'; 
lint just th(! poiiohio put tho niovo in, 

Am' whihi mi;rli|,'H thoro, 
TIkmi liih.ic, .skilti(!, wo j^ao Hcriovin', 

An' fash nao mair. 

lAHy/A', ]iMi oji rhymo! it's ny a Irtjusnro, 
My chief, amaiHt my only |»h;;iHun?, 
At hamo, a-fii;!', at wark or NiiHuro, 

'rh(! MuHO, poor hi/,'/.i(!, 
I'lio' ron<(h an rMploi^Ji ho h(M- nKsi.snro, 

Sh(!'H HCihloiM la/y. 

J land tiu; th(! Musi!, my d;iiul.io Davio! 
'I'ho war)' nuiy piny yon iiionio a Hhavie, 
But for th(.' MuHr;, Hho'jl n(;v(!r loavo y«, 

Tho' »;'or hmo ptiir ; 
Nu, ev'n tlio' lim|)in wi' tlui Hpavio 

Frao door to door. 
15 



170 BUKNS S I'OEMS. 



EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK, 

AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD, APRIL 1, 1785. 

While briers an' woodbines budding green, 
An' paitricks scraichin loud at e'en, 
An' morning' poussie wliiddin seen, 

Ins})irc my Muse, 
Tliis IVcedom in an unknown fricn 

I pray excuse. 

On fasteen-e'en we had a rockin, 

To ca' tlie crack and weave our stockin, 

And tliere was muckle fun an' jokin 

Ye need na doubt : 
At Icnglli we liad a hearty yokin 

At sang about. 

There was ae sang, amang the rest, 
Aboon them a' it pleasM me best. 
That some kind husband had ad(h-est 

To some sweet wife; 
It tlu-illM the iioart-strings thro' the breast, 

A' to tlie life. 

I've scarce heard aught describe sae weel, 
What gen'rous, manly bosoms feel ; 
Thougiit I, " Can this be i'ojjo, or Steele, 

Or I^cattic's wark?" 
They told mc 'twas an odd kind cliiel 

About Muirkirk. 



IIURIVS'S POKMS. ]7l 

It p;it me fidfrin-fuin to licar't, 
And sae about him thero I spier't, 
Tlieii a' that kcnt him round doclar'd 

lie hud ing-ino, 
That nane exceli'd it, few cam near't, 

It was sae fine. 

TJjat sot him to a pint of ale, 

An' either donco or morry talc, 

Of rhymes an' sanrrs Iio'd made himsel, 

Or witty catches, 
'Twcon Inverness and Teviotdale, 

lie liad few matclies. 

Then up I jrat. an' swore an aith, 

Tlio' I shouM pawn my j)leu<rh and yraitli, 

Or die a cad<,'-er-p()wnio'8 death. 

At some dyke-back, 
A pint an' gill I'd g\e them baith 

To hear your crack. 

But first an' foremost, I should tell, 
Amaist as soon as I could spell, 
I to the crambo-jinfrlo fell, 

Tho' rude an' rough, 
Yet crooning to a body's sel, 

Does wool enough. 

I am nae poet, in a sense, 

But just a rhymer, like, by chance 

An' hae to learning nae pretence; 

Yet what tha matter? 
Whene'er my Muse does on mo glance, 

1 jingle at her 



172f BUKNS'S rOEMS. 

Your critic-folk m;iy cock their nose, 
And say, " How can you e'er propose, 
You wha ken hardly verse frae prose, 

To niak a sang ? " 
But, by your leaves, my learned foes, 

Ye're may be wrang. 

What's a' your jarn'on o' your sciiools, 
Your Latin nau)cs for horns an' stools. 
If honest Nature made you fools ? 

Wiiat sairs your g-ramuiars? 
Ye'd better tacn up spades and shools. 

Or knappin-hammers. 

A set o' dull, conceited hashes 
Confuse their brains in college classes ! 
They gang in stirks, and come out assea. 

Plain truth to speak ; 
An' syne they think to climb Parnassus 

By dint o' Greek 1 

Cie me ae spark o' Nature's fire, 

That's a' the learning I desire ; 

Then, tho' 1 drudge thro' dub an' mire, 

At pleugh or cart, 
My MusG, tho' hamely in attire. 

May touch the heart. 

O for a spunk o' Allan's glee, 

Or Fergusson's, the bauld and slee, 

Or bright Lapraik's, my friend to be, 

If I can hit it ! 
That would be lear enough for me. 

If I could get it ' 



Now, sir, if ye liae friends enow, 
Tho' real friends, I b'lieve, are few. 
Yet, if your citalogue be fon, 

I'se no insist; 
But gif ye want a friend that's true, 

I'm on your list. 

I winna blaw about mysel ; 

As ill I like my fauts to tell ; 

IJut friends and folk that wish me well 

They sometimes roose me 
Tho' I maun own, as monie still 

As far abuse me. 

There's ae wee faut they whyles lay to me - 

I like tlie lasses — Gude forg-ie me ! 

For monie a })lack they wheedle frac me, 

At dance or fair; 
May be, some itlier thing they gie me, 

They weel can spare. 

But Mauchline race, or Mauchline fair, 
I should be proud to meet you there; 
VVe'se gie ae night's discharge to care, 

If we forgather. 
An' hae a swap o' rhymin-ware 

Wi' ane anither. 

The four-gill chap, we'se gar him clatter, 

An' kirsen him wi' reekin water ; 

Syne we'll sit down an' tak our whitter, 

To cheer our heart; 
An' faith, we'se be acquainted better 
Before we part. 
15* 



174 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Awa, ye seltish, warly race, 

Wha think that havins, sense an' grace, 

Ev'n love and friendship should give place 

To catch-the-plack ! 
I dinna like to see your face, 

Nor hear your crack. 

But ye whom social pleasure charms, 
Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms, 
Who hold your being on the terms, — 

"Each aid the others!" 
Come to my bowl, come to my arms, 

My friends, my brothers ! 

But, to conclude my lang epistle, 

A.S my auld pen's worn to the grissle ; 

Twa lines frae you wad gar me fissle, 

Who am, most fervent, 
While I can either sing or whissle. 

Your friend and servant 



TO THE SAME. 
Ai>RiL 21, 1785. 

While new-ca'd kye rout at the stake, 
An' pownies reek in plough or braik, 
This hour on e'enin's edge I take, 

To own I'm debtor 
To honest-hearted, auld Lapraik, 

For his kind letter. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 175 

Forjesket sair, witli weary lega, 
Rattlin the corn out owre the rigs, 
Or dealing thro' aniang the nags 

Their ten-hours' bite, 
My awkwart Muse sair pleads and begs 

I would na write. 

The tapetless, ramfeezl'd hizzie, 

She's saft at best, and something lazy ; 

Quo' she, "Ye ken we've been sae busy, 

This month an' mair, 
That, trouth, my head is grown right dizzis. 

And something sair." 

Iler dowff excuses pat me mad : 

" Conscience ! " says I, " ye thowless jad ' 

I'll write, an' that a hearty blaud. 

This vera night; 
So dinna ye affront your trade, 

But rhyme it right. 

"Shall bauld Lapraik, the king o' hearts, 
Tho' mankind were a pack of cartes, 
Roose you sae weel for your deserts. 

In terms sae friendly. 
Yet ye'll neglect to show your parts. 

And thank him kindly ' ^ 

Sae I gat paper in a blink. 

And down gaed stumpie in the ink; 

Quoth I, "Before I sleep a wink, 

I vow I'll close it; 
An' if you winna mak it clink, 

By Jove I'll prose it ' *" 



176 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Sae I've begun to scrawl, but whether 

In rhyme or prose, or baith thegither, 

Or some hotch-potch that's rightly neither. 

Let time mak proof; 
But I shall scribble down some blether 

Just clean aff-loof. 

My worthy friend, ne'er grudg'e an' carp, 
Tho' fortune use you hard an' sharp ; 
Come, kittle up your moorland harp 

VVi' gleesome touch ! 
Ne'er mind how Fortune waft an' warp ; 

She's but a b-tch. 

She's gien me monie a jest an' flog 
Sin' I could striddle owre a rig^ ; 
But, by the L — d, tlio' I should beg 

Wi' layart pow, 
I'll laugh an' sing, an' sliake my leg, 

As lang's I dow ! 

Now comes the sax-an'-twentieth simmer 
I've seen the bud upo' the timmer. 
Still persecuted by the limmer, 

Frae year to year ; 
But yet, despite the kittle kimmer, 

I, Rob, am here. 

Do ye envy the city gent, 

Behind a kist to lie and skient, 

Or purse-proud, big wi' cent, per cent, 

And muckle wane. 
In some bit burgh to represent 

A bailie's name "i- 



BURNS'S POEMS. 177 

Or, is't the paughty, feudal thane, 

Wi' ruffled sark an' glancing cane 

Wha thinks himsel nae sheep-shank bane. 

But lordly stalks, 
While caps and bonnets afF are taen. 

As by he walks ? 

"O Thou, wha gies us each guid gift, 
Gie me o' wit an' sense a lift. 
Then turn me, if Thou please, adrift, 

Thro' Scotland wide; 
Wi' cits nor lairds I wadna shift. 

In a' their pride ! " 

Were this the charter of our state — 
" On pain of hell be rich an' great,** 
Damnation then would be our fate, 

Beyond remead ; 
But, thanks to Heav'n ! that's no the gate 

We learn our creed: — 

For thus the royal mandate ran, 
When first the human race began — 
"The social, friendly, honest man, 

Whate'er he be, 
'Tis he fulfils great Nature's plan. 

An' none but he ! " 

O, mandate glorious and divine ! 
The ragged followers of the Nine, 
Poor thoughtless devils ! yet may shine 

In glorious light ; 
While sordid sons of Mammon's line 

Are dark as night 



178 nURNS's POKIMS. 

Tlio* liorc t.hoy scrnpo, an' sqnoozo, an' growl. 
Their worthless, neivf^fu' of a soul 
May in some t'ntiuo carcass liowl, 

The forest fri^^ht ; 
Or ill some (liiy-(U>testin<]^ owl 

May shun the liirht. 

Then in;iy Ijajiraik and Burns arise, 
To reach their n;iti\(% kindred skies, 
And sin<r their pleasures, hopes, an' joys, 

In some niiUl s|)here. 
Still closer knit in frieMdshijj's tics 

Illicit i)assing- year ! 



TO W. S*****N. 
ornii/niKK, MAY, 1785. 

I GAi' your letter, winsome Willie; 
Wi* o^rutcful he:irt I thank you brawlio. 
Tlio' 1 maun s;iy'f, I wad be silly, 

An' unco vain, 
Should I believe, my coaxin billy. 

Your flatt'rin strain 

But Tsc believe yc kindly meant it; 
I sud bo laith to think yc hinted 
Ironic satire, sidelins sklented, 

On my poor Musie ; 
Tho' in sic phraisin terms yo've penn'd it, 

I scarce excuse ye 



BURNS'S POEMS. IT 

My senses wad be in a creel, 
Should I l)iit dare a hope to spool, 
Wi' Allan, or wi' (lijbertfield, 

'i'he braes o' fame ; 
Or Fcrgnsaon, the writer-chiel, 

A d(>athless name. 

(O Ferjriisson ! thy {glorious parts 

ID suitiul law's dry, musty arts! 

My curse upon your whunstane hcartfl, 

Ye E'uburgii (rentry! 
The tilhe o' what ye waste at cartes 

Wad stow'd his pantry !) 

Yet when a tale comes i' my head, 

Or lasses jrie my heart a screed, 

As whyles they're like to be my (kjail, 

(O, sad disease !) 
I kittle up my rustic reed, — 

It ^^ies mo ease. 

Atild Coila now may fnl^c fu' fain, 

She's o-otton poets o' her ain, 

duels wha their chanters winna hain, 

Hut tune their lays 
Till echoes a' resound ajrain 

Her woel-sunjj praise. 

Nae poet thoui^ht her worth his while 
To set h(M- name in moasur'd style ! 
She lay like some unkenn'd-of islo 

Beside Now Holland, 
Or whare wild-meeting ocean < boil 

Desouth Maflfella L 



)80 Buruvs's roEiMs. 

Ramsay an' famous Fero-wspon 
Gled Forth nu' Tny a lift aboon ; 
Yarrow an' Tweed, to monie a tune, 

Owre Scotland rinfrp ; 
While Irwin, Lug-ar, Ayr, an' Doon, 

Nae body sings. 

Th' Illissns, Tiber, Thames, an' Seine, 
Glide sweet in nionie a tuncfu' line! 
But, Willie, set your fit to mine, 

An' cock your crest; 
We'll gar our streams and burnies shine 

Up wi' the best. 

We'll sing auUl Coila's plains an' lolls. 
Her moors red-brown M'i' heather bells, 
Her banks and braes, iicr dens an' dclla, 

Wiicre glorious Wallace 
Aft bure tlie gree, as story tells, 

Frae Southron billies. 

At Wallace's name, what Scottish blood 
But boils up in a spring-tide llood ? 
Oft have our fearless fathers strode 

By Wallace's side, 
Still pressing onward, red-wat shod, 

Or glorious died. 

O sweet are Coilas haughs an' woods, 
When lintwhites chant amang the buda. 
And jinkin hares, in amorous winds. 

Their loves enjoy. 
While tl o' the braes the cushat croods 

Wi' wiiilfu' cry I 



BUKNs'a IMJEMS. 181 

Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me, 
When winds rave thro' the naked tree; 
Or frosts on hills of Ociiiltree 

Are hoary gray ; 
Or blinding drifts wild fnrions flee, 

Dark'ning the day ! 

O Nature ! a' thy slicws an forms 

To feeling, pensive hearts iiac charma ! 

Wiicther the siunmer kindly warms, 

Wi' liie an' light, 
Or winter howls, in gusty storms, 

The lang, dark night! 

The Muse, nae poet ever fand her, 
Till by himscl he learn'd to wander, 
Adown some trotting burn's meander, 

An' no think lang! 
O, sweet to stray an' pensive ponder 

A heart-felt sang ! 

The warly race may drudge an' drive, 
Hog-shouth'^'' jundie, stretch, an' strive, 
Let me fair i»Iature's face dcscrive, 

And 1, wi' pleasure. 
Shall let the busy, grumbling iiive 

Bum owre their treasure. 

Farcweol, "my rhyme-composing britiicr!" 
We've been owre lang unkcnn'd to itlier ; 
Now let us lay our heads thegither, 

In love fraternal : 
May Envy wallop in a tether, 

Ijlack fiend, infernal ' 
Hi 



183 EURNS'S POEMS. 

While Higlilandmen hate tolls an' taxes, 
While moorlan' herds like g-uid fat hnixici, 
While terra Jlnna on her axis 

Diurnal turns, 
Count on a friend, in faith an' practice, 

In Robert BuRxNs. 



POSTSCRIPT, 

My memory's no worth a preen ; 

I had ainaist forgotten clean, 

Ye bade me write you what they mean 

By this New Light,* 
'Bout which our herds sae all hae beer 

Maist like to fight. 

In days wjien mankind were but callans 

At grammar, logic, and sic talent?. 

They took nae j)ains their speech to balance 

Or rules to gie, 
But spak their thoughts in plain, braid Lallians, 

Like you or me. 

In thae auld times, they thought the moon 
Just like a sark, or pair o' shoon. 
Wore by degrees, till her last roon, 

Gaed past their viewin'; 
An' shortly after she was done. 

They gat a new one. 



• New Light, a cant phrase, in llie West of Scotland, for those relig* 
luus opinions whicli Dr. Taylor of Norwicli, defended bo strenuously. 



BURNS'S POEMS. * 183 

This past for certain, undisputed; 

It ne'er cum in tlie.r heads to doubt it, 

Till chicls gat up and wad confute it, 

An' ca'd it wrang; 
An' muckle din there was about it, 

Baith loud and lang. 

Some herds, weel Icarn'd upo' the beuJc, 
Wad threap auld folk the thin<r inisteuk , 
For 'twas the auhl moon turn'd a neuk, 

An' out o' sight, 
An' backlins-comin, to the leuk, 

She grew mair bright. 

This was denied, it was afRnn'd ; 

Tiie herds an' jjissies were alarin'd ; 

The rev'rend gray-beards rav'd an' slonu'd, 

That beardless laddies 
Should think tiicy better were inform'd 

Than their auld daddies. 

Frae less to mair it gaed to sticks ; 
Frae words an' aitiis to blours an' nicks ; 
And monie a fallow gat his licks, 

Wi' hearty crunt ; 
An' some, to learn them for their tricks, 

Were hang'd an' brunt. 

This game was play'd in monie lands, 
An' auld light caddies bure sic hands, 
That, faith, the youngsters took the sands 

Wi' nimble shanks, 
Till airds forbade, by strict commands, 

Sic bluidy pranks. 



184 BURNS S POEMS. 

But new-liprht herds gat sic a cowe, 
Folk thought them ruin'd stick an stowc, 
Till now aniaist on ev'ry knowe, 

Ye'll find ane plac'd ; 
An' some, their now-light fair avow, 

Just quite bare-fac'd. 

Nae doubt the auld-light flocks are bleatin; 
Their zealous herds are vex'd an' sweatin ; 
Mysel, I've even seen them greetin, 

Wi' girnin spite, 
To hear the moon sae sadly lied on, 

By word an' Avrite. 

But snortly they will cowe the louns ; 
Some auld-light herds in neebor towns 
Are mind't, in things they ca' balloons, 

To tak a flight. 
An' stay ae month amang the moons, 

An' see them right. 

Guid observation they will gie them, 

An' when the auld moon's gaun to lea'e them, 

The hindmost shaird, they'll fetch it wi' tliein. 

Just i' their pouch ; 
An' wher the new-ligiit billies see them, 

I think they'll crouch ! 

Sae ye observe that a' this clatter 

Is naething but a " moonshine matter ; ** 

But tho' dull prose-folk Latin splatter, 

In logic tulzie, 
I hope we bardies ken some better 

Than mind sic brulzie. 



BURNS S POEMS. Igg 



jbPISTLE TO J. R**#**», 

ENCLOSIiN'G SOME POEMS. 



O ROUGH, rude, ready-witted R**#***, 
The wale o' cocks for fun and drinkin 
There's nionie godly folks arc thinkin, 

Your dreams* an' tricks 
Will send you, Korah-like, a sinkin, 

Straight to auld Nick's. 

Ye hae sae monie cracks an' cants, 
And in your wicked, drucken rants, 
Ye mak a devil o' tlie saunts, 

And fill them fou ; 
And then their failings, flaws, an' wants, 

Are a' seen thro'. 

Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it! 
That holy robe, O dinna tear it! 
{Spar't%for their sakes wha aflen wear it, 

The lads in black ; 
But your curst wit, when it comes near it, 

Rives't aff their back. 

Think, wicked sinner, wha ye're skaithing, 
It's just tlie blue-gown badge an' claithing 



• A certnin humorous droain of liis was then makiii- a noise in th« 
cooniry-side. 

16* 



186 BURNS'S POEMS. 

O' saunts ; tak that, ye lea'e them nacthing 

To ken tliem by, 
Frae ony unregen'rate lieathen, 

Like you or I. 

I've sent you here some rhyming ware, 
A' that I bargain'd for, an' niair ; 
Sae, when ye hae an hour to spare, 

I will expect 
Your sang,* ye'll sen't wi' cannie care, 

And no neglect. 

Tho' faith, sma' heart hae I to sing ! 
My Muse dow scarcely spread her wing 
I've play'd mysel a bonie spring, 

An' danc'd my till ! 
I'd better gaen an' sair'd the king, 

At Bunker's Hill ! 

'Twas ae night, lately, in my fun, 

I gaed a roving wi' the gun, 

An' brought a paitrick to the grun, 

A bonie hen ; 
An', as the twilight was begun. 

Thought nane wad ken. 

Tlie poor, wee thing was little hurt, 

I etraikit it a wee for sport. 

Ne'er thinkin they wad fash me for't. 

But deil-may-care ! 
Somebody tells the poacher-court 

The hale affair. 



A song he had promised the author. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 187 

Some auld-us'd hands had taen a note 
Tliat sic a hen had got a she*; 
I was suspcclcd for the plot; 

I scorn'd to lie, 
So gat the wJiissle o' my groat, 

All' pay't the fee. 

Hut, by my gun, o' guns the wale, 
An' by my pouther an' my jiail, 
All' by my hen, an' by her tail, 

I vow an' swear! 
Tlie game shall pay, o'er moor an' dale, 

For this, niest year. 

As soon's the clockin-time is by, 
An' the wee pouts begin to cry, 
i^ — d, I'se liac sportin by an' by. 

For my gowd guinea, 
Tho' I should herd the buckskin kyc 

For't in Virginia. 

Trowth, they liad muckle for to blame! 
Twas neither broken wing nor limb, 
But twa-three draps about the wame, 

Scarce thro' the feathers 
An' baith a yellow George to claim, 

An' thole their blethcrE ! 

It pits me ay as mad's a hare; 

So I can rhyme nor write nae mair 

But pennyworths again is fair, 

When time's expedient 
Meanwhile, I am, respected sir. 

Your most obedient 



ItSI BUUNS'a POEMS. 



TO l)\L lU.ACKLOUK. 

KI.!.ISI,AM>, Ol'l'OllKK, '31, 178!\ 

\V«)Av, but ytnir \v\[vr in;uU' nvo vauiitic ! 
Ami aro yo halo, ami wool, and cantio ^ 
I kenn'd it still your \v(h> hit jauntio 

Wad brin^ yo to : 
liOrd sond yo ay as wool's I want yo. 

And thou yo'll do. 

The ill-thiorblaw tlio Horon* south! 
And novi^r drink ho ntvir his drouth' 
Ho (aUl niysol, by word o' mouth, 

llo\l lak my lottor ; 
I lippeu'd to the chiol in trouth, 

And bailo nao bottor. 

But aiblins honost JSlastor Iloron 
Had at the time sonic dainty tair one, 
To ware his theoloo;ic care on, 

And holy study; 
And tir'd o' sauls to waste i)is loar on 

I'Vcw triiMl tho body. 

But what dVo think, my trusty tier, 
I'm tnrn'd a ijna<xor — peace be here ! 
Ptunassian quoons, 1 tear, I fear 

Yo'll now disdain me ; 



• Mr. lIortM), ;uulior of a History of ScoUaiul, juul various othel 
work*. 



Am«1 llicii my (illy poiiiidrt a yoar 
Will IiIIIk i^ruiii iiio. 

Yo ^Wailcil., (tIcihoiiio, (liiintio (liiiniftH 
Willi, by ('iiHl.iilia'H w.inplin Hf.roamirH, 
liowj), Hiu<r, tiiid lavo your pn-l.ty limbiod, 

N'(i luMi, y«) km 
'J'liat Hlniii'f nccoHHil.y Niiproirio irt 

'IVIiin^r HoiiH o' iiion. 

I luuj II wilr jiiT f.wa wi'.r. JmldicH ; 
Tlicy iiianii liao broHo and bratH o' diiddiod 
Y«; lu!M yoiii-HclH my Jk'iiiI, ri/^lit, proud jh, 
I IKM'd m;i(; vtMJMl,, 

li\i\. ril Hiicd Im'hoiiih — tJiraw Hiuigb woodirn, 
ll'iforo (,b(7 want,. 

liord help me lliro' iIiih wnrld o' can;' 
I'm vvrary, Hi(;lc o'L hilo mid air! 
Nol. but I hiMj a licJim- HJiaro 

'riiiin moiiir il,|i(!rH : 
But wby hliould lie nmii b(;U,(;r faro, 

And a' men brilJiorH ? 

Como, Firm K.^wolvr, |,ilu' iliou t.ho van, 

Thon Hl.alk o' carl-bomp in man ! 

And lot, iiH mind, l'aii:|; h(jart, ne'er wnii 

A lady-fiiir; 
Wha tlooH tlio iitinoHl, that bo c.nn, 

Will wbyb.'H do niair. 

IJnl, to coiKtliidi! my Hilly rbymo, 
(Pm Hc.ant, o' verHo, ami Hcant o' tinio,) 
'J'o mako a biippy tiro-Hidt! clinio 
'i'o vveanH amJ wiilj • 



UK) BURNS'S POKMS. 

That's the truo pathos and sublime 
Ot' liiiuKin life. 

My compliments to sister Bcckie ; 
And eke the same to lionest Lucky, 
I wat she is a dainty chuckie, 

As e'er trod clay ! 
An' g^ratefully, my guid auld cockle, 

I'm yours for ay.' 

Robert Burnji 



TO COLONEL DE PEYSTER. 

DUIMFRIES, 1796. 

My honor'd Colonel, deep I feel 
Your int'rest in the Poet's weal ; 
Ah ! hc'^ sma' heart hue I to speel 

The steep Parnassus, 
Surrounded thus by bolus pill. 

And potion glasses. 

O, what a cantie Avorld were it, 

Would ])ain, and care, and sickness spare it; 

And fortune favor worth and merit, 

As they deserve: 
(And ay a rowth, roast-beef and claret ; 

Syne whu wad starve ?) 

Dame Life, tho' fiction out may trick her, 
And in paste gems and fripp'ry deck her; 
Oh! flick'ring, feeble, and unsicker 
I've found her still. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 19^ 

Ay wav'ring like the willow wicker, 
"r>voon ^^00(1 iiiid ill. 

Then that curst carintifjnole, nultl Satan, 
Watclios, like bandrans by a rattan, 
Our sinf'u' saul to g-ot a claut on, 

Wi' felon ire ; 
Syne, whip ! his tail yc'll uo'or cast saut on, 

He's air like fire. 

Ah, Nick ! all, Nick ! it is na fair. 
First showintr us the temj)<,iiiij ware, 
Bright wines and bonie lasses rare. 

To put us dad; 
Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare, 

O' liell's danui'd wall. 

Poor man, the flie, aft bizzies by, 

And aft Jis chance he comes tli».'y nigh, 

Thy auld damn'd elbow ycuks wi' joy, 

And hellish ])leasurc ; 
Already in thy fancy's eye 

Thy sicker treasure. 

Soon, heels o'er gowdic ! in ho jrangs. 
And, like a shcop-hoad on a tan^^s, 
Tliy girning lau<!^li enjoys his pangs 

And murd'ring wrestle. 
As, dangling in the wind, he hangd, 

A cribbet's tassel. 



But, lost you tliink I am uncivil, 

To plague you with this draunting driveU 



192 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Abjuring a' intentions evil, 
1 quat my pen: 

The Lord preserve us frae the devil 
Anicn ! Amen ! 



LETTER 

TO J S T T GL — NC — R. 

AuLD "comrade dear, and brither sinner, 
How's a' tlie folk about Gl — nc — r? 
How do you this blae eastlin wind. 
That's like to blaw a body blind? 
For me, my faculties are frozen. 
My dearest member nearly dozen'd ! 
I've sent you here my Johnny Simson, 
Twa sage philosophers to glimpse on ; 
Smith, wi' his sympathetic feeling, 
An' Reid to common sense appealing. 
Philosophers have fought an' wrangled, 
And meikle Greek an' Latin mangled, 
Till wi' their logic-jargon tir'd. 
An' in the depth of science mir'd, 
To common sense they now appeal 
What wives and wabsters see an' feel : 
But hark ye, friend, I charge you strictly 
Peruse them an' return them quickly; 
For now I'm grown sae cursed douce, 
I pray an' ponder butt the house, 
My shins, my lane, I there sit roastin, 
Perusing B'myan, BrDwn, and Boston • 



BURNS'S rOEMS. 199 

Till by an' by, if I hand on, 
I'll grunt a real Gospel groan ; 
Already I beg-in to try it, 
To cast my een up like a pyet, 
When by the gun she tumbles o'er, 
Flutt'ring an' gasping in her gore : 
Sue shortly you sliall see me bright, 
A burning an' a shining light 

My heart-warm ^e to guid auld Glen, 
The ace ^ wale W honest men ; 
When be^Eng down with auld gray hairs. 
Beneath the load of years and cares, 
May he who made him still support him, 
An' yiews beyond the grave comfort him. 
His worthy fam'ly far and near, 
God bless them a' wi' grace and gear. 

My auld school-fellow. Preacher Willie, 
The manly tar, my mason Billie, 
An' Auchenbay, I wish him joy ; , 

If he's a parent, lass or boy. 
May he be dad, and Meg the mither, 
Just five-an'-forty years thegither ! 
An' no forgetting wabster Charlie, 
I'm tauld he offers very fairly. 
An', L — d, remember singing Sannock, 
Wi' hale breeks, saxpence, an' a bannock; 
And next, my auld acquaintance, Nancy, 
Since she is fitted to her fancy ; 
An' her kind stars hae airted till her 
A guid chiel wi' a pickle siller. 
My kindest, best respects I sen' it. 
To cousin Kate, an' sister Janet ; 
Tell tJiem frae me, wi' chiels be cautious, 
17 



194 BURNS'a POEMS. 

For faith, they'll aiblins fin' them fashious* 

To orant. a heart is fairly civil, 

But to orant a nuiidtMiheticPs the devil ! 

An' lastly, Janue, for yoursel, 

May guardian angels tak a spell. 

An' steer you seven miles south o' hell 

But fust, before you see heav'n'a glory, 

May ye get monie a merry story, 

Monie a laugh and monie a drink, 

An' ay enough o' neeUln' clink. 

No^r fare yc weel, an' joy be ^vi' you ; 
For my sake this I beg it o' you, 
AssiiK poor Siiiison a' yo can, 
Ye'U fm' him just an honest man: 
Sac I conclude, and quat my^hantcr, 
Your's, saint or sinner, 

. Rob the Ranter 



TO MR. MITCHELL, 

COLLECTOR OF EXCISE, DUMFRIES, 1796. 

Friend of tlie Poet, tried and leal, 
Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal* 
Alake, alake, tlie meikle deil 

Wi' a' his witches 
Are at it, skelpin! jig an' reel, 

In my poor pouches. 

I modestly, fu' fain wad hint it. 
That one pound one, I saLrly want it 



f wi' flio liiz/io down yo snnd it, 

It would 1)0 land; 
And uhil(> iny lioart wi' litb-hN.od diintod, 
I'd Ix'jir't ill mind. 

So limy (ho imid year {riiu<r out inoaning, 
To Hoo the now coino hid(>n, irrotiminr^ 
Wi' d(.id)l(! phMity, o'or tho loaiiiiifr, 

To th(!o Jiiid tliiiio ; 
Domostic jxjucc )ui(j||comrortH crowning 

'I'ho hdil dcaiy^n. 



I» C> H T M C a I I' T 

Vc'vo hoiirff thin whilo Jiow I'vo boon lickot, 
And by foil doath was nearly nickel; 
Grim loun! Ik; irnt me by llur feckot, 

And Hair mo Hhouk ; 
put, by ^ro(,d luck, I laj) a wickot, 

And tiini'd a noid<. * 

JJiit, by that health, I've ^oi a nharo o\ 
And by that life, I'm promib'd mair o't, 
]My halo and wool I'll take a care o't, 

A tontior way ; 
Then larowool folly, hide an' Jmir o't, 

For ance and uyo. 



L96 BURNS'S POEMS. 



TO THE GUIDWIFE OF WAUCHOPE-HOUSR 

N ANSWER TO AM ElMSTLE WHICH SHE HAD SENT 
THE AUTHOR. 

Gwdwife ; — w 

I MIND it wccl ill early date, 

Wlien I was beardless, yourifi!', and blato, 

Aad first could thresh the barn ; 
Or hand a yokin at the plcugh; 
An' tho' for foui^htcn sair ci^giigh. 

Yet unco proud to learn : 
When first amani^ the yellow corn 

A man I reckon'd was, 
And wi' tho lave ilk merry morn ; 
, Could rank my rig and lass, 
Still sliearing, and clearing 

Tiie tit her stocked raw, 
Wi' claivers, an' liaivers. 
Wearing the day awa. 



Ev'n then, a wish, I mind it's pow'r, 
A wish that to my latest hour 

Shall strongly heave my breast, 
That I, for poor auld Scotland's sjike, 
Some usefu' plan or book could make, 

Or sing a sang at least 
The rough burr-thistle, spreading wide 

Amang the bearded bear, 



RURNS'S I'OKMS. J^f 



1 turnM the wceder-clips aside, 
An' spiir'd the symbol dear; 
No nation, no station, 

My onvy o'or could raise; 
A «cot still, but blot still, 
I kne^v nae higher praise. 



But still the oloMKMits o' sang-, 

In ibnulcss juiublo^i<rht an' wrang, 

Wild lloatcd in my brain; 
Till on that har'st I said before, 
My partner in the merry core, 

She rous'd the forming- strain! 
I see her yet, the sonsie quean, 

That ligifated up hor jinglo. 
Her witching smile, hor pauky cen, 
That gar't my heart-strings tingle; 
I fir'd, inspir'd, 

At ev'ry kindling keek, 
But bashing, and dasliing, 
I feared ay to speak. 



Ilail to tlie set! ilk guid chiel says, 
VVi' merry dance in wiuter days, 

An' we to share in common; 
The gust o' joy, the balm o' wo, 
TJie saul o' life, the heav'n below. 

Is rapture-giving woman. 
Ye surly sumphs, who hate the name, 

Be mindfu' o' your mithor ; 
She, honest woman, may think shame 

That ye'rc connected with her • 
17* 



198 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Ye're wae men, ye're nae men, 
Tliat sliglit the lovely dears; 

To shame ye, disclaim ye, 
Ilk honest birkie swears. 



F )Y you, na bred to barn or byre, 
Wha sweetly tune the Scottish lyre, 

Thanks to you for your line. 
The marled plaid ye kindly spare 
By me should gratefully be ware, 
'Twad please me to the Nine. 
I'd be mair vauntie o' my hap. 

Douse hinging o'er my curple, 
Than onie ermine ever lap, 
Or proud imperial purple. 

Fareweel, then, lang hale then. 

An' plenty be your fa'. 
May losses and crosses 
Ne'er at your hallan ca'. 
March, 1787. R. BcftNs. 



TO J. RANKEN, 

OJi HIS WRITING TO THE AUTHOR THAT A GIRL WAI 
WITH CHILD BY HIM. 

I AM a keeper of tlie law 

In some sma' points, altho' not a'; 

Some peijple tell me gin I fa', 

Ae way or ither. 
The breaking of ae point, tho' sma", 

Breaks a' thegither. 



«URNS'S POKMS. 199 

I hae been in for't aiice or twice, 
And winiia say o'er far for thrice, 
Yet never met with that surprise 

That broke my rest ; 
But now a rumor's Hke to rise, 

A whaiip's i' the nest 



ADDRESS 

TO AN ILLEGITIxMATE CHILD. 

Tiiou's welcome, wean, mislianter fa' me, 
If aught of thee, or of thy mammy, 
Shall ever danton me, or awe me. 

My sweet wee lady, 
Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me 

Tit-ta or daddy. 

Wee image of my bonie Betty, 

I fatherly will kiss an' daut thee, 

As dear an' near my heart I set thee, 

Wi' as guid will. 
As a' the priests had seen me get thee. 

That's out o' h-11. 

What tho' they ca' me fornicator, 
An' tease my name in ki ntry -clatter ; 
The mair tJiey tauk I'm kent the better; 

E'en let them clash; 
An auld wife's tongue's a feckless matter 

To s'le ane fash. 



200 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Sweet fruit o' nionio a merry dint, 

My funny ticl is now a' tint, 

Sin' thou came to the warl asklent, 

Which fools may scoff at 5 
In my last pluck thy part's bo in't — 

The better half o't. 

An' if thou be what I wad hae thee, 
An' tak the counsel I shall gie thee, 
A lovin father I'll be to thee. 

If thou ^e spar'd ; 
Thro' a' thy childish years I'll e'e thee, 

An' think't wool war'd. 

Gude grant that thou m;iy ay inherit 
Thy mither's person, grace, an' merit, 
An' tliy poor, worthless daddy's spirit, 

Without his failins ; 
Twill please me mair to hear an' sec't, 

Than st(H'.kct mailins. 



TO A TAILOR, 

IW ANSWER TO AN El'ISTl-K WUICM UF, HAD SElfT 
AUTUOK. 

What ails ye noM', ye lousie b — h, 
To thresh my back at sic a pitch ? 
l^osh man ! hae mercy wi' your natch, 

Your bodkin's bauld , 
I did na suffer half sao much 

Frae daddy Auld. 



BtTKiNs's rOKMS. 20l 

What tlio' at times, when I grDw crouse, 
I gie their wurnes a random pouse, 
Is that enough for you to souse 

Your servant sae ? 
Gac, mind your scam, ye prick tlie louse 

An' jag- the Ihic. 

King David, o' poetic brief, 

Wrought 'mang tlie lasses sic mischief 

As HUM his afior life wi' grief 

An' bloody rants ; 
An' ynt he's rank'd amang tlie chief 

O' lang syne saunts. 

And, may be. Tarn, for a' my cant^, 
IMy wicked liiymes, an' drucken rants ; 
I'll gie auld cloven Clooty's haunts 

An unco slip yet; 
An' snugly sit amang the saunts, 

At Davie's hip yet. 

ilut fogs, the session says I maun 

Gae fa' upo' anilhor plan, 

'I'han garren lassos cowp the cran, 

Clean heels owre body, 
And sairly thole their mitiiers' ban 

Afore the howdy. 

This leads mo on to tell, for sport 
How I did with the session sort — 
Auld Clinkum at the inner port 

Cried three times, "Robin! 
Come hither, lad, an' answer for't, 

Ye're blam'd for jobbin.'* 



202 BURNS S P0EM8. 

Wi' pinch I put a Sunday's face on, 
An' snoov'd awa' before the session; 
I made an open, fair confession, 

I scorn'd to lie ; 
An' syne Mess John, beyond expression, 

Fell foul o' me. 

A fornicator loun he call'd me, 

An' said my fiut frae bliss expell'd me ; 

1 own'd the tale was true lie tell'd me, 

" But what the matter ? " 
Quo' I, "I fear, unless ye geld me, 

I'll ne'er be better." 

"Geld you!" quo' he, "and whatfore no, 
If tliat your riglit hand, leg, or toe, 
Should ever prove your spir'tual foe, 

You should remember 
To cut it aff, and whatfore no 

Your dearest member." 

" Na, na," quo' I, " I'm no for that : 
Gcldinf^'s nae better than 'tis ca't 
I'd rather suffer for my faut, 

A hearty flewit, 
As sair owre hip as ye can draw't! 

Tlio' I should rue it 



"Or g-in ye like to end the bother, 
To please us u' Tve just ae ither ; 
When next wi' yon lass I forgather, 

Whate'er 3etide it, 
I'll frankly gie her't a' thegither. 

An' let her guide it* 



BCRNS'S rOEMS. 203 

But sir, this pleas'd them warst ava, 
An' therefore, Tarn, wlien that I saw, 
I said " Guid night," and cam awa', 

An' left the session ; 
I saw they were resolved a' 

On my oppression. 



TO MR. WILLIAM TYTLER, 

WITH A PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR. 

Revered defender of beauteous Stuart, 

Of Stuart, a name once respected, 
A name, which to love was the mark of a true heart, 

But now 'tis despised and neglected. 

Tho' something like moisture conglobes in my eye, 

Let no one misdeem me disloyal ; 
A poor, friendless wand'rer may well claim a sigh, 

Still more, if that wand'rer were royal. 

]My fathers that name have rever'd on a throne ; 

My fathers have fillen to right it; 
Those fathers would spurn tlieir degenerate son, 

That nan)e should he scoffingly slight it. 

Still in prayers for King George I most heartily join 
Tiie Queen, and the rest of the gentry, 

Be they wise, be they foolish, is notliing of mine ; 
Their title's avow'd by my country. 



204 BURNs's roi^ftis. 

But wliy of that epocha make such a fuss ? 

But loyalty, ti-ico ! we're en dangerous gTound ; 

Who knows how the fashions may alter '' 
The doctrine to-day that is iDyalty sound, 

To-morrow may hring us a halter! 

I send you a trille, a head of a bard, 

A trille scarce worthy your care ; 
But accept it, good sir, as a mark of regard, 

Sincere as a saint's dying prayer. 

Now life's chilly evening dim shades on your eye, 

And ushers the long, dreary night ; 
But you, like the star that athwart gilds the sky, 

Your course to the latest is bright. 



EPISTLE 

TO K. GRAHAM, ESQ., OF FINTRA. 

When Nature her great masterpiece design'd. 
And fram'd her last, best work, the human mind. 
Her eye intent on all tlie mazy plan. 
She form\l of various parts the various man. 

Then first she calls the useful many forth 
Plain, plodding industry, and sober wortli 



BUKWS'S POKMS. 209 

Thence j)casaT\ts, farinei-s, native sons of earth 

And niercliandise, whole g-eniis take their birth , 

Each prudent cit a warm existence finds, 

And all mechanics' many apron'd kinds. 

Some other rarer sorts are wanted yet, 

The lead and buoy are needful to the net; 

The caput mortuum of gross desires 

Makes a material for mere knights and squires; 

The martial phos})horus is taught to flow, 

She kneads the lumj)ish, philosophic dough, 

Then marks th' unyielding mass with grave designs, 

Law, physics, politics, and deep divines : 

Last, she sublimes th' Aurora of the poles. 

The flashing elements of female souls. 

The order'd system fair before her stood. 
Nature, Avell-pleas'd, pronounc'd it very good ; 
But, ere she gave creating labor o'er, 
Half jest, she tried one curious labor more. 
Some spumy, fiery, ignis fatuus matter ; 
Such as the slightest breath of air might scatter; 
With arch alacrity and conscious glee, 
(Nature may have her whim as well as we, 
Her Hogarth-art perhaps she meant to show it,) 
She forms the thing, and christens it — a poet. 
Creature, tliough oft the prey of care and sorrow, 
When blest to-day unmindful of to-morrow. 
A being form'd to amuse his graver friends, 
Admir'd and prais'd — and there the homage ends ; 
A mortal quite unfit for fortune's strife. 
Yet oft the sport of all the ills of life ; 
Prone to enjoy each pleasure riches give. 
Yet haply wanting wherewithal to live ; 
Longing to wipe each tear, to heal each groan, 
Yet frequent all unheeded in his own. 
18 



20b* BURNS'S rOEJVlS. 

But lioiiPst Nature is not quite a Turk, 
She Uuioli'd at first, then telt tor her poor work, 
Pitying tiie })roplest? climber of nuinkind, 
She cast about a standard-tree to fnid ; 
And, to support his helpless woodbine state, 
Attached hnn to Jie generous, truly great, 
A title, and the only one I claim, 
To lay strong hold for help on bounteous Graham. 

Pity the tuneful Muses' hapless train. 
Weak, timid landsmen on life's stormy main ! 
Their hearts no scllish, stern, absorbent stuff, 
That neither gives — though liumbly takes enough: 
Tiie little fate allows, they share as soon, 
Unlike -^age, proverb'd Wisdom's hard-Avrung boon. 
The world were bless'd did bliss on them depend — 
Ah! that "t',»je friendly e'er should want a friend!" 
Let Prudence number o'er each sturdy son. 
Who life and wisdom at one race begun. 
Who feel by reason, and who give by rule, 
(Instinct's a brute, and sentiment a fool !) 
Who malve poor loill do wait upon / should — 
We^)tn they'*^prudent, but who feels they're good ? 
Ye wise once, hence ! ye hurt the social eye ! 
God's image rudely etch'd on base alloy ! 
But come ye who the godlike jileasure know — 
Heaven's attribute distinguish'd — to bestow I 
Whose arms of love would grasp the human race; 
Come thou who giv'st with all a courtier's grace ; 
Friend of my life, true patron of my rhymes ! 
Prop of my dearest hope for future times. 
Why shrinks my soul half-blushing, half-afraid, 
Backward, abashed to ask Miy friendly aid ? 
I know my need, I know cny giving hand, 
I crave tliy friendship at tliy kind command ; 



BDIC.NS'S I'OKMS. 207 

Rut, tlioro aro Rucii who court the tuncftil Nino — 

lli'avens! should the hnmdiMl chamctcir hi; inino ! 

Whoso verse in iiKiiihood's pr'uU) suhliinely llou'8 

\'v.\. vilest rcpliles in their L>e^'^'iii<>f prose. 

IVliuk, how th(>ir li)lly, indep:!ndent spirit 

Sours on the spurning winj^ of injin-M tnerit ! 

Seek not the proofs in priv;i,te lite to find ! 

I'ily the host of words should he hut wind! 

So to he;iven's routes the lurk's shrill song ascends, 

JJut grovclliujr on the earth the carol ends. 

In all the clamorous ciy of starving want, 

They dun henevolencc with shameful front; 

Ohligc them, i)atroniz<3 their tins(d lays, 

'V\n'y persecute you all your future days! 

Ere my poor soul such dei^p dauuuition stain, 

]\Ty horny fist assume the i)lough again; 

'JMie piehald jacket let me patch once moio-; 

On cighteen-pence a week I've lived before. 

'I'hough, thanks to heaven I I dare even that last shift 

I trust, meantime, my boon is in thy gift; 

That placed hy thee upon the wish(!d-for height, 

Where, Man and Nature fairer in h(;r sight, 

My Muse may imp her wing or some suhlinior flight 



X 



TO THE SAME. 

Latk cripi)lcd of an arm, and now a log. 
About to beg a pass for leave to beg; 
Dull, listless, teas'd, dejected and deprest, 
'Nature is adverse to a cripple's rest,) 



208 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Will g-on'rous Graham list his Poet's wail ? 
(It soothes poor Misery heark'nini^ to her tale,) 
And hear him curse the light he jfirst survey'd, 
And doubly curse the luckless, rhyming trade! 

Thou, Nature, partial Nature, I arraign; 
Of thy caprice maternal I complain. 
The lion and the bull thy care have found ; 
One shakes the forest, and one spurns the ground: 
Thou gi'cst the ass his hide, the snail iiis shell, 
Th' envenomed wasp, victorious, guards his cell. 
Thy minions, kings defend, control, devour. 
In all th' omnipotence of rule and power. 
Foxes and statesmen, subtle wiles insure ; 
The cit and polecat stink and are secure. 
Toads with their poison, doctors with their drug, 
The priest and hedgehog in their robes are snug, 
Ev'n silly woman has her warlike arts, 
Her tongue and eyes, her dreaded spear and darts. 

But oh ! thou bitter stop-mother, and hard, 
To thy poor, fenceless, naked child — the IJard ' 
A thing unteachable in the world's skill, 
And half an idiot, too, more helpless still. 
No heels to bear him from the op'ning dun ; 
No claws to dig, his hated sight to shun; 
No horns, but those by luckless Hymen worn. 
And those, alas! not Amalthea's horn: 
No nerves olfact'ry. Mammon's trusty cur, 
Clad in rich dulness. comfortable fur, 
In naked feeling, and in aching pride. 
He bears th' unbroken blast from ev'ry side ; 
Vampyre booksellers drain him to the heart, 
And scorpion critics cureless venom dart. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 209 

Critics ! appall'd I venture on the name, 
Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame : 
Bloody dissectors, worse than ten Monroes; 
He hacks to teach, they mangie to expose. 

His heart by causeless, wanton malice wrung, 
By blockheads' daring into madness stung; 
His well-won bays, than life itself more dear. 
By miscreants torn, who ne'er one sprig must wear. 
Foil'd, bleeding, tortur'd in th unequal strife, 
The hapless poet flound3rs on thro' life, 
Till fled each hope that once his bosom fir'd, 
And fled each Muse that glorious once inspir'd. 
Low sunk in squallid, unprotected age, 
Dead, ev'n resentment for his injur'd page, 
He heeds or feels no more the ruthless critic's rage 

So, by some hedge, the gen'rous steed deceased, 
For half-starv'd, snarling curs a dainty feast; 
By toil and famine wore to skin and bone. 
Lies senseless of each tuggin bitch's son. 

O, Dulncss ! portion of the truly blest ; 
Calm, shelter'd haven of eternal rest ! 
Thy sons ne'er madden in the fierce extremes 
Of Fortune's polar frost, or torrid beams 
If mantling high she fills tiio golden cup 
With sober, selfish ease they sip it up ; 
Conscious the bounteous meed they well deserve, 
They only wonder "some folks" do not starve. 
The grave sage hern thus easy picks his frog, 
And thinks the mallard a sad, worthless dog. 
When disappointment snaps the clue of hope, 
A.nd thro' disastrous night they darkling grope, 
18* 



iilO BURNS'S POEMS. 

With (Iciif endurance slntririslily tluy hoar, 
And just conchido that " fools are Fortune's care.* 
So. heavy, passive to the tempest's shocks, 
Stronjj on the sign-post stands the stupid ox. 

Not so the idle Muses' mad-cap train. 
Not such the workings of their moon-struck brain 
•fn equanimity they never dwell, 
}\y turns in soaring heav'n or vaulted hell. 

I dread thee, Fate, relentless and severe, 
With all a poet's, husband's, father's fear! 
Already one strono--hold of hope is lost, — 
GlkncaiRiN, the truly noble, lies in dust; 
(Fled, like the sun eclips'd as noon appeai-s. 
And left us darkling- in a world of tears ;) 
O! Ikmu" my ardent, g^ratel'ul, selfish prayer! 
FiNTRA, my other stay, long^ bless and spare! 
Thro' a lonjif life his hopes and wishes crown ; 
And bright in cloudless skies his sun go down! 
May bliss domestic smooth his private patli; 
(live cnerg^y to life, and soothe his latest breath, 
With many a lilial tear circling^ the bed of deatii 



TO THE SAMK, 

ox RKCFIVrNO A FAVOR. 

1 CALL no goddess to inspire my strains, 
A fabled Muse may suit a bard that feigns 
Friend of my life ! my ardent spirit burns. 
And all the tribute of n\y heart returns, 



BURKS'S rOF.MS. 211 

For boons accorded, goodness ever new 
The gift, still dearer, as the giver you. 

Thou orb of day! thou other paler liglit! 
And all ye many sparkling 3tars of night ; 
If aught that giver from my mind efface ; 
If I that giver's bounty e'er disgrace ; 
Tlien roll to me, along your wand'ring spheres, 
Only to number out a villain's years ! 



TO A GENTLEMAN 

WHOM THK AUTHOR HAO OFFENDFD. 

Tfif friend whom wild from wisdom's way 
The fumes of wine infuriate send ; 

(Nor moony madness more astray ;) 
Who but deplores that hapless friend? 

Mine was the insensate, frenzied part, 
Ah ! why should I such scenes outlive ? 

Scenes so abhornmt to my heart ! 
'Tis thine to pity and forgive 



812 BURNa's POEMS. 



TO A GENTLEMAN 

WaO HAD SENT HIM A NEWSPAPER, AND OFFFREU TO 
CONTINUE IT FREE OF EXPENSE. 

Kind sir I've read your paper through, 

And faith, to me, 'twas really new ! 

How guess'd ye, sir, wliat maist I wanted ? 

This monie a day I've grain'd and gauntod. 

To ken what French mischief was brcwin ; 

Or what the drumblie Dutch were doin ; 

That vile doup-skolpcr, Emperor Joseph, 

If Venus yet had got his nose off; 

Or how the collieshangie works 

Atween the Russians and the Turks ; 

Or if the Swede, before he halt, 

Would play anither Charles the Twalt ; 

If Denmark, any body spak o't ; 

Or Poland, wha had now the tack o't ; 

How cut-throat Prussian blades were hingin, 

How libbet Italy was singin ; 

If Spaniard, Portuguese, or Swiss, 

Were sayin or takin aught amiss ; 

Or how our merry lads at hame 

In Britain's court kept up the game ; 

How royal George, the Lord leuk o'er hiii^ 

Was managing St. Stephen's quorum ; 

If sleekit Chatham Will was livin, 

Or glaikit Charlie got his nieve in ; 

How daddie Burke the plea was cookin, 

If Warren Hastings' neck was yeukin ; 



BURNS'S POEMS. 213 

How cessos, stents, and fees were rax'd, 
Or if bare a — ses yet were tax'd ; 
Tlie news o' princes, dukes, and earls, 
Pimps, sharpers, bawds, and opera-girls; 
If that dall buckle, Geordio Wales, 
Was threshing still at hissies' tails. 
Or if he has grown oughtlins douscr, 
And no a perfect kintra cooser ; — 
A' this and nmir I never heard of, 
An' but for you I might despair'd of: 
So gratefu', back your news I send you, 
And pray a' guid things may attend you. 
FMi^land, 1790. 



SKETCH, 

TO MRS DUiM.OP, ON A NEW YEAR's DAI. 

This day. Time winds the exhausted chain, 
To run the twelvemonth's length again; 
I see the auld bauld-pated fellow, 
With ardent eyes, complexion sallow, 
Ajust the unimpair'd machine. 
To wheel the equal, dull routine. 

The absent lover, minor heir, 
In vain assail him with their prayer; 
Deaf as my friend, he sees them prese, 
Nor makes the hour one moment less. 
Will you (the Major's with the hounds, 
The happy tenants sliare his rounds ; 
Coila's fair Rachel's care to-day. 
And blooming Keith's engaged with Ghray) 



914 BUIIINS'S rOKIMS. 

From honsowifo cures a ininnto borrow — 

Tliat •ii'nuulcliiUrs cup will do to-morrow — 

And join willi nu; a moral iziug, 

Tliis day's pr()i)ilioMs to bo wise in. 

First, what did yostoniiojit deliver? 

"Another year is gnno lor over." 

And what is this day's stron<r auj^i^^cstion ? 

"The i)assing moment's all we rest on'** 

Rest on — for what do wo hear? 

Or why rei>-iird tho passing; year ? 

Wjll lime, amus'tl with jjroverb'd lore, 

Aild to our date owe minute more? 

A few days may — a few years must — 

llepose us in the silent dust. 

'JMkmj is it wise to damp our bliss? 

\'es — iiU sui-h reasonings arc amiss! 

'J'he voice of Nature loudly cries, 

And many a messao'o trom tho skios, 

That sonuMhin<r in us never dies : 

That on this trail, uncertain state, 

llan^ mutters of eternal wei^-ht; 

That future life, in worlds uid<uown, 

Must taki^ its hue from this alone; 

Whether as heavenly o'lory hrii;ht, 

()r dark as misery's woful night. — 

t^inoe then, my honor'd, iirst of friends, 

On this i)(H)r being- all depends; 

l.et us th' important now employ, 

And live as those that never die. 

Tho' you, with days and lienors crown'd, 

Witness that filial circle round, 

(A sight life's sorrows to repulse, 

A sight pale Envy to convulse,) 

Others now claim your chief regard; 

Younself, you wait your briyjit reward. 



IIIJUINs'h I'OKIVIH. SIIA 



TIIK AIIIJ) TA KM Kirs NKW-YKAR MOIJNINCJ 
SALUTATION TO HIS AUIJ) MAItM, MA(;(.II':, 

ON (ilVIN(J lll'.ri 'I'ltK ArcilM'IMUMKh llll' (M' ('OPtN T(l 
IIANMKI, IN 'I'lIK INKW VKAIt. 

A (JIIIK New V'cMl- I wish Hire, Mil/rfriu! 
ll.'u^, IIi('I(;'h II rip to lliy mild Imjn^ncj : 
Tlio' IIiou'h liowcj-lMickit, MOW, jiu' knii/rjLric, 

I'ho Hoon tli(! (Iiiy 
'I'lioii could liim jritori liko onii! Htiij^jT-io 

( )iil. owr(! IIk! jiiy. 

Tho' now tliou'ri dowio, HiilV, im' cnizy, 
An' tliy auld liidci'H iih wIjIUj'h a diiiny, 
I've Boon thoG diippl't, slock, iin j^liiizio, 

A bonio frniy ; 
Jlo HJioiiId IxMMi linlit, t.liiit. diiiir'l, l.o r.ii.sc tlioo 

Ani-o in n diiy. 

'J'llOU (IllCO W.-IH i' IIm! fol(MllOHl, Hiuk, 

A lilly, Imirdly, hI.oovo, an' Hwiink, 
An' Hot wool down a Hhapoly HJiiiuk, 

Ah o'(m- tnjjid yird, 
An' could liiK! Mown out, owr(.' n wtaidi, « 

Liko onio Mrd. 

It'H now Homo niiio-un'-twonty yf^ar 
iSin' lliou wan niy «,niid fatlici'ri niooro 
lio jfiod iMO IIkm?, o' loclior cloar, 
An' lilliy niark ; 



2lO RUR.NS S POEMS, 

Tho' it was snia', 'twas weel-won gear, 
An' thou was stark. 

When first I gaed to woo uiy Jenny, 
Ye thon was trottin wi' your niinnie ; 
Tho' ye was trickie, slee, an' funnie. 

Ye ne'er was donsie ; 
But hamely, tawie, quiet, an' canie, 

An' unco sonsie. 

Tliat day, ye prancM wi' niuckle pride, 
Wlien ye bure hanio my bonie bride ; 
An' sweet an' j^racefu' she did ride 

Wi' maiden air ! 
Kyle Stewart I oouUl brago-ed wide 

For sic a pair. 

Though now ye dow but hoyte an' hobble, 
An' wintle like a samount-coble, 
That day ye was a j inker noble, 

For heels an' win' ! 
An' ran them till they a' did wauble, 

Far, far behin'. 

When thou an' I were young an' skeigh, 
An' stable meals at fairs were dreigh. 
How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' skreigh. 

An' tak the road! 
Town's bodies ran, an' stood abeigh, 

An' ca't thee mad. 

When thou was corn't, an' I was mellow, 
We took the road ay like a swallow ; 
At Brooscs tliou had ne'er a fellow, 
For pith an' speed ; 



BDRNS'S POEMS. 217 

But ev'ry tail thou pay't them hollow 
Where'er thou gaed. 

The sma', droop-rumpl't, hunter -cattle, 
Might aiblins waur't tliee for a brattle; 
But sax Scotch miles, thou try't their mettle, 

An' gar't them whaizle! 
Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle 

O' saugh or hazel. 

Thou was a noble fittic-lan', 

As e'er in tug or tow was drawn ! 

Aft thee an' I, in aught hours gaun, 

On guid March weather, 
Hae tuin'd sax rood beside our han', 

For days thegither. 

Thou never braindg't, an' fech't, an' fliskit, 
But thy auld tail thou wad Iiae whiskit, 
An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket, 

Wi' pith and pow'r, 
Till sprjtty knowes wad rair't and risket, 

An' sly pet owre. 

When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep, 
An' threaten'd labor back to keep, 
I gied thy cog a wee bit heap 

Aboon the timmer ; 
I kenn'd my Maggie wad na sleep 

For that, or simmer. 

In cart or car thou never restit ; 
The steyest brae thou wad hae fac'd it ; 
Thou never lap, and sten't and breast it. 
Then stood to blaw ; 
'9 



218 BURNS'S POEMS. 

But just tliy step a wee thing hastit, 
Thou snoov't awa. 

My plough is now thy bairn-time a' ; 
Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw ; 
Forbye sax mae, I've sell't awa, 

That thou hast nurst; 
They drew me thretteen pund an' twa, 

The vera warst 

Monie a sair daurk we twa hae wrought, 
An' wi' the weary warl' fought ! 
An' monie an anxious day, I thought 

We wad be beat ; 
Vet here to crazy age we're brought, 

Wi' something yet. 

An' think na, my auld trusty servan', 
That now, perhaps, thou's less deservin', 
An' thy auld days may end in starvin', 

For my last fou, 
A heapit stimpart, I'll reserve ane 

Laid by for you. 

We've worn to crazy years thegither ; 
We'll toyte about wi' ane anither ; 
Wi' tcntie care I'll fit thy tether 

To some hain'd rig, 
Whare ye may nobly rax your leather, 

Wi' sma' fatigue. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 219 



THE DEATH AND DYING WORDS OF POOll 
MAILIE, THE AUTHOR'S ONLY PET YOWE. 

AN UNCO MOURiXFU' TALE. 

As Mailie an' her lambs theg-ither, 
Where ae day nibbling on the tether, 
Upon her cloot she coost a hitch, 
An' owre she warsl'd in the ditcii ; 
There, groaning, dying, she did lie, 
When Hughoc* he came doytin by. 

Wi' glowrin eon, an' lifted han's, 
Poor Hughoc like a statue Stan's ; 
He saw her days were near-hand ended, 
But, waes my heart! he could nae mend it! 
He gaped wide, but naethiug spak, 
At length poor Mailie silence brak. 

" O thou, whase lamentable face. 
Appears to mourn my wofu' case ! 
My dying words attentive hear. 
An' bear them to my master dear. 

"Tell him, if e'er again he keep 
As muckle gear as buy a sheep, 
O, bid him never tie them mair 
Wi' wicked strings o' hemp or hair. 
But ca' them out to park or hill, 
An' let them wander at their will ; 
_ « 

* A neighbor hcrd-cuUaiu 



220 BURNS S rOKMS. 

So may his Hock increase, an' grow 
To scores o' hunbs, an' packs o' woo'' 

" Tell him ho was a master kin', 
An' ay was g-uid to me an' mine ; 
An' now my dying charge I gie him, 
My helpless jaml>s, I trust tliem wi' him. 

"O, bill him save their harmless lives 
Frae dogs, an' tods, an' butchers' knives . 
But gie them guid cow-milk their fill, 
Till they be fit to feed themscl' ; 
An' tent them duly, e'en an' morn, 
Wi' teats o' hay, an' rips o' corn. 

"Am' may they never learn the gaets 
Of itlier vile wanrestfu' pets ! 
To slink thro' slaps, an' reve, an' steal, 
At stacks o' peas, or stocks o' kail. 
So may they, like their great forbears, 
For monie a year come thro' the shears ; 
So wives will gie them bits o' bread, 
An' bairns greet for them when tlieyVe dead 

"My poor toop-lamb, my son an' heir, 
O, bid him breed him up wi' care ! 
An', if he live to be a beast 
To pit some bavins in his breast! 
An' warn him what I winna name, 
To stay content wi' yowes at hame; 
An' no to rin an' wear his cloots. 
Like ither menseless, graceless brutes. 

"An' niest my yowie, silly thmg. 
Gude keep thee frae a tether-string. 



BURNS S VOICMS. 



221 



()' may tluni nc'or ibr'^'iithnr up 
VVi' ony blaslit, moorland toop; 
IJut ay keep mind to moop an' moll 
Wi' ahccp o' c^rodit, liko tliysol' ! 

" And now, my bairns, wi' my last breath, 
I lea'o my blo;-isin' wi' you baith ; 
An' wlion you tliink upo' your mithcr 
Mind to be kin' to ane auithor. 

" Now, iionost Ilug'lioc, dinna fail, 
To tell my master a' my tale ; 
An' bid him burn tliis cursed tother, 
An', for thy pains, thous'o get my blethoi. 

This said, poor Mailio turn'd her head 
An' clos'd her een amanfr the dead. 



POOR MATUFAS Kl.KGV 

Lamknt in rhyme, lament in prose, 

Wi' saut tears trickling down your noao? 

Our bardie's fate is at a close. 

Past a' remead ; 
The last sad cap-stane o' his woes ' 

l\)or Mail e's dead ! 

It's no the loss o' warTs gear, 
That could sae bitter draw the tear, 
Or mak our bardie, dowio, wear 

The mourning weed* 

iir" 



2IW lUIRNs's I'OF.IWS. 

lie's lost a (Viciid and noobor dear, 
In Mailio dead. 

Thro' a' the touii see trotted by him, 
A hinjif lialf inilc she could descry him; 
VVi' kindly bleat, when she did si>y him, 

She ran wi' speed ; 
A frit nd nuiir taithru' ne'er cam ni^h him 

Than Mailie dead. 

I wat she was a Hheej) o' sense, 
An' could behave horsel' wi' mense ', 
I'll say't^ she never bralc a fence, 

Thrt)' thievish greed ; 
Our bardie, lanely, kcvps the spcncc 

Sin' Mailie's dead. 

Or, if he wanders up the howe. 
Her livinj; in^itje, in her yowe. 
Comes bleatinu: to him o'er the knowo, 

For bits o' bread ; 
An' down the briny pearls rowe, 

For Mailie dead. 

She was nae i^et o' moorland tips, 

Wi' tawtod ket an' hairy hips ; 

For her forbears were broug'ht in ships 

Frac yont the Tweed: 
A bonier lleesh ne'er cross'd the clips 

Than Mailie deail. 

Wno Avorth the man wha hrst ilid shape 
That vile, wanohancie thinjj — a rape! 
It inaks ouid fellows rrirn an' jr^ipc, 
Wi' clu^kin' dread ; 



ftURNS'S POEMS. 

An' Robin's boniiot wnvc wi' crape, 
For M.-iilio dead. 

O, a' yo bunlH on bonio Doon ! 
An' vvha on Ayr your cJjanUirH tuno 
Come, join th(i incjancbolions croon 

O' R()I)in's rc('(l! 
Hii heart will never ^r<.t aboon 

H'la Mailie UesMlt 



BOOK IV. 

HUMOROUS, SATIRIC AT., ErK^.RAMMATICAI* 
AND MISCELLANEOUS. 



TAM O'SIIANTER. 



of HiDwiiyis iuul of Hogilis full is itiis Imke. 

tiAWIN Do no LAS. 

Whkiv chapimn billies leave the street, 
Ami droiitliy neebors, neebors meet, 
As market days are wearing late, 
An' folk begin to tak the gate ; 
While we set bousing at the nappy, 
An' gottin' ton and unco happy, 
We til ink na on the lang Scots miis, 
Tiio mosses, waters, slaps, and styles, 
That lie between us and our hame, 
Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame, 
Gath'ring her brows, like gath'ring storm, 
Nursing her wratli to keep it warm. 

This truth land honest Tam O'Shanter, 
As he, frae Ayr, ae nigiit did canter, 
(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses, 
For honest men and bonio lasses ) 



uuiiNs s roKMS. 225 

O Tam ! hiulst thou but been sae wiae, 
As taen tliy ain wife Kate's advice! 
She tanld thee vvocl thou was a skelluin, 
A blethering, blustcrinjr, drunken blellurn; 
That frac November till October, 
Ae market day thou was na sober; 
Tiiat ilka molder, wi' the miller, 
Thou sat .'IS lano- iis thou had siller; 
That cv'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on, 
The smith and thee gat roaring fou on ; 
That at the L — d's house, cv'n on Sunday, 
Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. 
She prophesied that, late or soon. 
Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon 
Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, 
By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. 

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet, 
To think how monie counsels sweet, 
IIow monie lengthon'd, sage advices, 
The husband frae tiie wife despises! ,* 

But to our tale : — Ac market night, 
Tam had got planted unco right ; 
Fast by an ingle, blcezing finely, 
Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely, 
And at his elbow, souter Johnny, 
His ancient, trusty, drouthor crony ; 
Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither ; 
They had been fou for weeks thcgither. 
The night dravc on wi' sangs and clatter, 
And ay the ale was growing better ; 
The landlady and Tam grew gracious, 
Wi* favors, secret, sweet, and precious: 



226 BURNS'S POEMS. 

The souter taulJ his queerest stories ; 
The landlord's laugh was ready chorus : 
The stonn without might rair and rustle, 
Tarn did na mind tlie storm a whistle. 

Care, mad to see a man sae happy, 
E'en drown'd himself amang the nappy, 
As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, 
The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure* 
Kings may be blest, but Tarn was glorious, 
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious. 

Rut pleasures are like poppies spread, 
You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed! 
Or^ like the snow-falls in the river, 
A nionient white — then melts for ever; 
Or like the borealis race. 
That Hit ere you can point their place ; 
Or like the rainbow's lovely form. 
Evanishing amid the storm ! 

Nao man can tether time or tide ; 
The hour ap])roach«s Tam maun ride ; 
That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, 
That dreary hour he mounts his beast in ; 
And sic a night he taks the road in, 
As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. 

The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last , 
The rattling show'rs rose on the blast; 
The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd ; 
Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow'd. 
That night, a child might understand 
The Deil had business on his hand 



BURNS S POEMS. 

Wecl mounted on his gray mare, Mc/j, — 
A better never lifted leg, — 
Tarn skelpit on thro' dub and mire, 
Despising wind, and rain, and fire ; 
Whyles holding fast his guid blue bonnet, 
Wliylcs crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet, 
Whyles giow'ring round wi' prudent cares 
Lest bogles catch him unawares ; 
Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, 
Wharc ghaists and houlets nightly cry. 

By this time he was cross the ford, 
Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd; 
And past the birks and meikle stane, 
Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane ; 
An' thro' tlie whins, and by the cairn, 
Whare hunters fand the nuirder'd bairn ; 
And near the thorn, aboon the well, 
Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel'. 
Before him, Doon pours all its floods, 
The doubling storm roars thro' the woods ; 
The lightnings flash from pole to j)ole, 
Near and more near the thunders roll ; 
When, glimm'ring thro' the groaning trees, 
Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze ! 
Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing. 
And loud resounded mirth and dancing! 

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn ! 
What dangers thou canst make us scorn! 
Wi' tippenny, wo fear nae evil ; 
Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil! 
The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, 
Fair play, he car'd na Deils a boddle. 



227 



828 BUIINS'S POEiMS. 

But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd, 

Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd, 

She ventur'd forward on the light, 

And, vow ! Tam saw an unco sight ! 

Warlocks and witches in a dance, — 

Nae cotillon brent new frae France, 

But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, 

Put life and mettle in their heels. 

A winnock-bunker in the east, 

There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; 

A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, 

To gie them music was his charge: 

He screw'd his pipes, and gart them skirl 

Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. 

Coffins stood round like open presses, 
That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses 
And, by some devilish cantrip slight, 
Each in its cauld hand held i light, 
By which, heroic Tam was able 
To note, upon the haly table, 
A murd'rers banes in gibbet aims, 
Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns 
A thief, new-cutted frae a rape, 
Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; 
Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted. 
Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted ; 
A garter which a babe had strangled, 
A knife, a father's throat had mangled 
Whom his ain son o' life bereft, — 
The gray hairs yet stack to the heft ; 
Three lawyers' tongues turn'd inside out, 
Wi' lies seam'd like a beggar's clout; 
And priests' hearts, rotten, black as muck, 
Lay, stinking, vile, in ev'ry neuk. 



BURNS'S POKMS 22 

Wi* mair o' horrible and awfu', 
Which ev'n to luiinc wad bo unlawfu*. 

As TanmiiG glowVd, uina/'d, and curious, 
The inirtii and fun ^rrovv fast and furious: 
The piper loud and louder blew, 
The dancers (piick and quicker flew ; 
'J'liey recl'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, 
Till ilka carlin swat and reckit, 
And coost her duddios to the wark. 
And linket at it in her sark ! 

Now Tani, O Taui ! had they been queana, 
A' plump and strapping, in their teens; 
Their sarks, instead o' creeshic flannen, 
Been snaw-white, seventeen hunder linen' 
These breeks o' mine, my only pair. 
That ance were plush, o' ^uid blue hair, 
I wad hae g-i'on them aff my hurdies, 
For ae blink o' the bonie burdies! 

But wither'd beldams, auld and droll, 
Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, 
liowping an' Hinging on a crummock, 
1 wonder didna turn thy Htomach. 

But Tam kcnn'd what was what fu' brawlie ; 
There was ae winsome Avench and walie, 
That night enlisted in the core, 
(Ldng after kcnn'd on Carrick shore! 
For monie a beast to dead she shot. 
And perish'd monie a bonie boat, 
And shook baith mciklo corn and bear, 
And kept the country-side in fear.) 
20 



230 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Her cntty-sark, o' Paisley ham, 
That wliilo a lassie she had worn, 
111 long-itude tho sorely scanty, 
It was lier best, and she was vauntie. 
Ah ! little kenn'd thy rev'rend grannie, 
That sark she cofl for her wee Nannie, 
Wi' twa pund Scots, ('twas a' her riches,) 
Wad ever grac'd a dance o' witches! 

But here my Muse her wing- maun cow'r ; 
Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r ; 
To sing how Nannie lap and flang, 
(A souple jad she was and Strang ;) 
And how Tarn stood, like ane bewitched, 
And thought his very een enrich'd ; 
Ev'n Satan glowVd, and fidg'd fu' fain, 
And hotch'd, and blew wi' might and main; 
Till first ae caper, syne anither, 
Tarn tint his reason a' thegither, 
And roars out, " Wcel-done, Cutty-sark ! " 
And in an instant a' was dark! 
And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, 
When out tiie hellish legion sallied. 

As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke. 
When plund'ring herds assail their byke ; 
As open pussie's mortal foes, 
When, pop! she starts before their nose! 
As eager runs the market-crowd. 
When, "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud 
So Maggie runs, — the witches follow. 
Wi' monie an eklritcii screech and hollow! 

Ah, Tarn! ah. Turn! thou'll get thy fliiric' 
In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin ! 



BURNS S lOKMS. 231 

In vain tliy Kate awaits thy comin'! 
Kato soon will be a wofu' woman : 
Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg-, 
And win the koy-stane* o' tiie brig; 
Tliorc at them thon thy tail may toss, — 
A running stream they dare na cross, 
But ere the key-stane she could make, 
The ficnt a tail she had to shake ! 
For Nannie, far before the rest, 
Hard upon noble Maggie prest, 
And flew at Tarn wi' furious ettle , 
But little wist she Maggie's mettle ; — 
Ae spring brought aff her master hale. 
But left behind her ain gray tail ! 
The carlin claught her by the rump, 
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump I 

Now, wjia this tale o' truth shall read, 
Ilk man and mother's son take heed : 
Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd, 
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, 
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear, 
Remember Tarn O'Shanter's mare. 



• II is u well known fad, thai witches, or any evil spirits,^ have no 
power to follow a poor wight any farther than the middle of the next 
ruinuiig slnam. It may be proper likewise to mention to the benighted 
Iravellor, that when he falls in with Bogles, whatever danger may be io 
hia gfouig forward, there is much more hazard iix luri. ng buck. 



232 BURNS'S POEMS. 



[The follovvir.g poem will, by maiiy rea:;ers, be well enough undei. 
stood ; but for .lie sake of those who are unacquainted with tlie niannort 
and traditions of the country wliere the scene is cast, notes are added, 
lo give some account of the principal charms and spells of that niglit, so 
big with prophecy to the peasantry in the west of Scotland. The pas- 
sion of prying uito futurity makes a striking part of llie history of human 
nature in its rude slate, in all ages and nations; and it may be some en- 
lertainraent to a philosophic mind, if any such should honor the author 
whh a perusal, to see the remains of ii among the more unenlightened 
in our own.] 

HALLOWEEN.* 

Yes! lei the rich deride, the proud disdain, 
The simple pleasures of the lowly train ; 
To me more dear, congenial to my heart, 
One native charm than all the gloss of art. 

Goldsmith. 



Upon that night when fairies light, 
On Cassilis Downans f dance, 

Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze, 
On sprightly coursers prance ; 

Or for Colean the rout is taen, 
Beneath the moon*s pale beams ; 

There, up the cove,J to stray an' rove 



* It is thought to be a niglit when witches, devils, and other mischief" 
maJthig beings, are all abroad on their baneful midnight errands; partic- 
ularly tliose aerial people, the fairies, are said on that night lo hold a 
grand anniversary. 

t Certain little, romantic, rocky, green hills, in Ihe neighborhood of tha 
ancient seat of the earls of Cassilis. 

t A noted cavern near Colcan-house, called the Cove of Colean ' 
which, as well as Cassilis Downans, is famed in country story for b» 
ing a favorite haunl for fairies. 



BCJRNS'S POEMS. 233 

Arnang the rocks an' streams, 
To sport that night. 



Amang tlie bonie, Avinding banks, 

Where Doon rins, wimplin, clear, 
Where Bruce* ance rul'd the martial ranks, 

Ana shook his Carrick spear, 
Some merry, friendly, countra folks, 

Togctlicr did convene, 
To burn their nits, an' pou tlieir stocks, 

An' baud their Halloween, 

Fu' blythe that night. 



The lasses feat, an' cleanly neat, 

Mair braw than when they're fine ; 
Their faces blythe, fu' sweetly kythe, 

Hearts leal, an' warm, an' kin' : 
The lads sae trig, wi' wooer-babs, 

Weel knotted on their garten. 
Some unco blate, and some wi' gabs. 

Gar lasses' hearts gang startin, 

Whyles fast that nifrht. 



Then first and foremost, thro' the kail. 
Their stocks f maun a' be sought ance ; 



• The famous family of tliat name, the ancestors of Robert, the great 
deliverer of his country, were earls of Carrick. 

t The first ceremony of Halloween is, pulling each a stock, or plant 
of kail. They must go out, hand in hand, with eyes shut, and pull the 
tirst they meet with. Its being big or Utile, straight or crooked, is pro- 
phetic of the size and shape of the grand object of all their spells — the 
busband or wife. If any yird, or carlii, slick o the root, that is toucher, 

20* 



234 BURNS'S POEMS. 

They steek their een, an' graip an* wale, 
For nuickle anes an' straiig-ht anea. 

Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift, 
An' waniler'd thro' the how-kail, 

An' pow't, for want o' better shift, 
A runt was like a sow-tail, 

Sae bow't that night. 

V. 

Tlien, straught, or crooked, yird or nane, 

They roar an' cry a throu'ther ; 
The vera wee things, todlm, rin 

Wi' stocks out owro their shouther; 
An' gif the custock's sweet or sour, 

Wi' joctelegs they taste them ; 
Syne coziely, aboon the door, 

Wi' cannie care they've plac'd them, 
To lie that night. 



The lasses staw frae 'jnang them a*, 
To pou their stalks o' corn ; * 

But Rab slips out, an' jinks about, 
Behint the muckle thorn ; 

He grippet Nelly hard an' fast, 



or formne; and the taste of the cusiock, that is, the heart of the stem, 
is uidicative of the natural temper and dissp^sition. Lastly, the stems, 
or, to give them ihfir ordinary aiipellalion, the runts, are placed sonie- 
vvliere above the head of the door: and the christian names of the peo- 
ple whom chance brings itito the house, are, according to the priority of 
placing the runts, the names in quesiiun. 

* They go to the barn-yard, and pull each, at three several times, a 
stalk of oats. If the third stalk wants the tap-pickle, that is, the grain at 
the top of the stalk, the party in question will come to the marriage-bed 
anything but a maid. 



BUK^s'a POEMS. 235 

Loud sli'iled a' the lasses; 
But her tap-pickle maist was lost, 
When kiuttlin in the fause-housc,* 
VVi' hiin tliat night. 



The aula guidwifes's wcol-hoarded nits f 

Are round an' round divided, 
An' monie lads' an' lasses' fates 

Are there that night decided : 
Some kindle, couthic, side hy side, 

An' burn thegitiior trimly ; 
Some start awa wi' saucy pride. 

An' jump out owre the chindie, 
Fu' high tiiat night. 



Jean slips in twa wi' tentie e'e ; 

Wha 'twas she wadna tell ; 
But this is Jock, and this is me, 

She says in to hersel': 
He blecz'd owre her, an' she owre him, 

As they wad never mair part ! 
Till, futf ! he started up the lum. 

An' Jean had e'en a sair heart, 
To see't that night. 



* Who > tiie corn is in a douhtfu. siau-, hy l)eing too green or wet, tne 
•tack-hyutlor, by means of old limber, &c., makes a large apartment in 
Ins stack, u-ith an opening in the side which is fairest exposed to the 
tvnid ; ti;i3 he calls a fause-housc. 

t Bfraing the imts is a famous charm. They name the lad and lass 
^eiih particular nut, as they lay them in the fire, and accordingly as 
they burn quieiy together, or start from beside one another, the coursa 
4ii<i Usue of the courtship will bo 



236 BURi\s's roEMS. 



f'oor Willie, wV his bow-kail-runt. 

Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie ; 
An' Mallio, nae doubt, took tlie drunt, 

To bo coinjiarM to Willie; 
Mall's nit l:tp out wi' j)ri(lel\i fling, 

An' her ain (it it brunt it; 
Wiiile Willie lap, and swoor by jing, 

'Twas just the way he wanted 
To be that nio-ht. 



Nell had the fause-house in her min', 

She pits hersel' an' Robin ; 
In loving bleeze they sweetly join, 

Till white in ase they're sobbin: 
Nell's heart was dancin at the view, 

She whispor'd Rob to leuk for't : 
Rob, stowlins, prie'd her bonie mou, 

Fu' cozie in the neuk for't, 

Unseen that nisfht. 



But Mcrran sat behint their backs, 

Iler thoughts on Andrew Bell ; 
She lea'es them gashin at their cracks. 

An' slips out by hersel'; 
She thro' the yard the nearest taks, 

An' to the kiln she goes then, 
An' darklins grapit for the bauks, 

And in the blue-clue* throws then. 
Right fear't that night 



• Whoever -.vouKl, with siicooss, try ttiis spol'.. musi strictly observa 
these direcuous; Sic;il out, all alouc, iulo iho kiln, uiid, darkling, throvf 



BURNS'S POEMS. 237 



An' ay kIic wiu't, an' uy she swat, 

I wat she made nae jaiikin ; 
Till soinethiiifr lield witliin the pat, 

Cuid L — (1, but she was (luakin ! 
But whether 'twas the Doil hiinscl', 

Or whether 'twas a bank-en', 
Or wliether it was Andrew Bell, 

She did nae wait on talkin 

To spier that night 



Wee Jennie to her grannie says, 

" Will ye go wi' me, grannie ? 
I'll eat the apple* at the glass, 

I gat trae uncle Johnnie : " 
She fuff't her pipe wi' sick a lunt, 

In wrath she was sae vap'rin, 
She notic't na, an aizle brunt 

Her braw new worset apron 

Out thro' that night. 



*' Ye little skelpie limmer's face, 
How daur you try sic sportin, 

As seek tlie foul thief onie place, 
For him to spae your fortune ? 



iuto ihe pol a clue of blue yarn; wind it in a new clue off ihe oli on« 
and, towards the latter end, sometliins: will hold the thread. Demand, 
Whu hands? i. e., Wlio holds? An answer will be returned from tho 
kiln-pot, by naming the christian and surname of your future spouse. 

• Take a candle, and go alone to a iookinj^-plass ; eat an apple bufor* 
it, find some traditions say you should cond) your hair all the time; the 
face of your conjugal companion to bo, will be seen in the glass, as i/ 
peeping over your shoulder. 



Ii38 



Niu' ili»iil>t Init yc miiy ^('t u sitrhtl 
tJnvit ciuisc yt' liavc to trur it , 

For iMoiiio a ano has onHcn a tVijj^lU, 
An' lived un' iliod tlcK'tMtM, 
On sir a uii;lit. 



" At« liacrst aton' [\\c Shorni-njoor, 

1 luimrt as wi't'l's yestxeon, 
I was a «_;iliu\v, tluMJ, Vm snro 

I was iia(> past t'vtlt'tMi ; 
Tho siiiuiuT hail boon canld an' wat, 

An' stulV was nnoo ^reiMi ; 
An' ay a rantin kirn wi^ «.;-at, 

A' just o\\ llallowrtMj 

It toll that nij'ht. 



" Onr stibblo-ri**' was Uab M'(u;uMn, 

A olovor, stnnly tolhnv ; 
llo's sin' j^at Kppio Sim w i' uoan, 

That livod in Aohinaoalla : 
He «xat luMup-S(Hul,* I miiul it wt'ol. 

An' ho mailo uiu'o li.'_;lit o't ; 
l>ut luonio a ilay was l»v iiiiusor, 

lli> was sao sairly tVightol 

That vera night" 



• Steal oui, unpowv'ivtiil, »u)^ bow n ltniult\il of liomp-seftJ, harn>\vii\j( 
i with auythinij you ran oi>nvom<MUly draw atlor yo«». Uopoat, in>\» 
nn«t tUt>n, '* llennvat>pil, I saw thoo; hfrnp-sooit, I saw thoo ; uml luiii (or 
hor) that is to ho my tnit>lovo, oomt* at\or me, aiul |Hm tlioe," l.<H'k 
ovoj your h>i\ slioulilor, amt you will at>e the appoaraiice ot" tho p<T»»u 
invokiil, in iho ntiuiulc of pulliuj; homp, S»>me trjuiiiuMis say, " Oonui 
ut^or ».»«, auvl shaw ihoo," that >s. slu>w thjsrlf; in wliifli oaso it simply 
uppoars. t^ihcrs omit iho han\nvii>i;, aim sav, " Oofic siAer me, niitl 
harri)W lUoo " 



BUKKSy rOEAIS. 



23U 



Then 11]) ^r;it r<'<-litiii' Jamie Fleclc, 

All' he s\v(»()i- hy his c.onscionce, 
That he coiiUl ^iiw hiMiip-sood Ji peck, 

For it Wits a but iioiusoiiHe: 
Tlio niihl i^md 111:111 raiij-ht down the pock. 

An' out II haiulfii' {^ied him ; 
Syne bad biin slip frae \nm<r the folk, 

Some time when na ane see'd him, 
An' try't that niglit. 



lie marches thro' amnnjr the stacks, 

Tho' he was somcthinj,' stmlin ; 
The graip lie for a harrow taks, 

An' haurls at his ciirpin : 
An' ev'ry now an' then, he says, 

"Ilemp-aeed, I saw then, 
An' her that is to be my lass, 

Come after me, and draw thoc 
As fast this ni<rht." 



He whistl'd up Lord Lennox's marcli, 

To keep his courage cheery; 
Although hia hair began to arch, 

lie was sae Hcy'd an' eerie; 
Till presently he hears a s(incak, 

An' th(!n a grane an' izruntle: 
lie by his shonther gae a keek, 

An' tumbl'd wi' a wintlc 

Out owre that night. 



240 BURNS'S POEMS. 



lie roard a horrid murder-shout, 

In dreadfu' deHpcration! 
An' young and auld came rinnin out. 

To hear the sad narration : 
He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw, 

Or crouchie Merran Humpliie, 
Till stop! she trotted thro' them a', 

An' wlia was it but grumphie 
Astcer tliat niolit ! 



Meg fain wad to the barn hae gaen, 

To winn tliree wechts o' naething • * 
But for to meet the ])eil her lane, 

Slie pat but little faith in: 
Sh» gies the herd a i)iclde nits, 

An' twa red cheekit apples, 
To watch, while for the barn she sets 

In hopes to see Tam Kipples 
That vera night. 



She turns the key wi' cannie thraw, 
And owre the threshold ventures ; 



* This cliarm imisl likewise be performed, unpcrccivcd, nnd aloaa. 
You go to the bum, anil open boili doors, taking tliem off" tiie iiinifes, i( 
possible; for iliere is dani,'er tliai llie bonig, aboul to appear, may slnil 
the doors, and do you some mischief. Tiion take tliat instrument used 
ill wiiuiovvinf- ilie corn, vvliicii, in our country dialed, we call a wecht; 
and go throui;:li all the atiitudes of cumg down corn against the wind. 
Repeal it three timcM; and the third imean apparition will pass through 
the barn, in at the wmdy iloor, and out at the other, having both the hg- 
ure ijiquestion, and tiie appearance or retinue, marking the eiiiploymeiil 
or station in lite. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 241 

But first on Sawnic gies a ca', 

Syne bauldly in she enters ; 
A ratton rattled up the wa', 

An' she cried, L — d, preserve her! 
An' ran thro' niidden-hole an' a', 

An' pray'd wi' zeal an' fervor, 
Fu' fast that night 



They hoy't out Will, wi' sair advice: 

Then hecht him some fine braw ane 
It chanc'd the stack he faddom'd thrico * 

Was timber-propt for thrawin : 
He taks a swirlie, auld moss oak. 

For some black, grousome carlin ; 
An' loot a winze, an' drew a stroke, 

Till skin in blypes cam haurlin, 

Aft''s nieves that night. 



A wanton widow Leezie was, 

As canty as a kittlen ; 
But och ! that night, amang the shaws, 

She got a fearfu' settlin ! 
She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn, 

An' owre the hill gaed scrievin, 
Whare three lairds' lands met at a burn,t 

• Take an opportunity of g-omg, unnoticed, to a bear-stack, and fatL* 
om it three times round. The Uist fallioin of the lust time, you will 
CHtch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow. 

t You go out, one or more, (or litis is a social spell, to a south-running 
Bpring or rivulet, wiiere "tliree lairds' lands meet," and dip your left 
sliirt sleeve. Go to bed in sigln of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve 
before it to dry. Lie awake; and, sometime near niidni.;,'ht, an appari- 
tion, having liie exact figure of the grand object in <iuestion, will com« 
•lul turn the .sleeve, as if to dry the other side of it. 

21 



242 BURNS'S POEMS. 

To dip her left sark-sleeve in, 
Was bent tJiat nijiht. 



V\'"liylo.s o'er a linn tiie burnio plays, 

As thro' the glen it winipl't ; 
Whyles round a rocky scar it strays; 

Whyles in a wicl it dinipl't; 
Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, 

Wi' bickering, dancing- dazzle; 
Whyles cookit underneath the braes, 

Below the spreading iiazxd, 

Unseen that niirht 



Amang the brackens, on the brae, 

Between her an' the moon, 
The Deil, or else an outler quey, 

Gat up an' gae a croon ! 
Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool ; 

Near lav'rock-height she jumpit, 
But mist a iit, an' in the pool, 

(3ut owre the lugs she plumpit, 

Wi' a plunge that night. 



In order, on the clean hearth-stane, 
The higgles three* are ranged, 



• Take throe dishes; put clean water m one, (uiil water in aiiotlier; 
leave llie lliird emiily. JJIiiullbUI a person, and lead liini to the heanh 
where the dishi's are rang:ed ; he (or slie) dips the lel't hand: if by eliiuice 
in the clean water, tin- t'ntnre imshand or wife will come to tlie bar ot 
matrimony a maid; if in the foul, a widow; if in the empty dish, it 
foretells, with ecjual eerlainiy, no marriage at all. It is repealed Ihre* 
limes, and every time the arrangement of tlie dishes is altered 



BURNS'S POEMS. 245 

An' ev'ry time great care is taen, 

To see them duly changed ; 
Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys, 

Sin' J\Iar's year did desire, 
Because he gat the toom dish thrice, 

He heav'd them on the fire, 

In wratii that night. 



Wi' merry sangs, an' friendly cracks, 

I wat they did na weary ; 
An' unco tales, an' funnie jokes, 

Their sports were cheap an' cheery. 
Till buttor'd so'ns,* wi' fragrant lunt, 

Set a' their gabs a-stcenn ; 
Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt, 

Tlicy parted aff careerin, 

Fu' blythe that night 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS. 



A CANTATA. 
RECITATIVO. 



When lyart leaves bestrew the yird, 
Or wav'ring like the Bauckie-bird, f 

Bedim cauld Boreas' blast; 
When hail-stanes drive wi' bitter skyte, 



• Sowins, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Hallov* 
ten supper, 
t The old Scotch name for the But. 



244 BURNS'S POEMS. 

And infant frosts begin to bite, 

In hoary cranreiich drest ; 
Ae night at e'en a merry core 

O' randie, gangrel bodies, 
In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore, 
To drink their orra daddies : 
Wi' quaffing and laughing, 

They ranted and they sang ; 
Wi' jumping and tlnnnping, 
The vera girdle rang. 

First niest the fire, in auld red rags, 
Ane sat weel brac'd wi' mealy bags, 

And knapsack a' in order; 
Ilis doxy lay within his arm, 
Wi' usquebae an' blankets warm — 

She blinket on her sodger : 
An' ay he gives the tousie drab 

The tither skelpin kiss, 
While she held up her greedy gab 
Just like an a'mous dish. 

Ilk smack still did crack still, 

Just like a cadger's whip. 
Then, stagg'ring and swagg'ring 
He roar'd this ditty up: — 



AIR. 

Tune — " Soldier's Joy." 



1 AM a son of Mars, who have been in many 
And show my cuts and scars wherever 1 come 



wart. 



BURNS'S rOEMS. 245 

This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, 
When welcoming the Frencli at the sound of the drum. 

Lai de daudle, &c. 



My 'prcnticcship I past where my leader brcath'd his 

last, 
When the bloody die was cast on the heiglits of 

Abram ; 
I serv'd out my trade when the gallant game was 

play'd, 
And ihe Moro low Avas laid at the sound of the drum. 

Lai de daudle, &c. 



I lastly was with Curtis, among the floating batt'ries. 
And there I Ictl for witness an arm and a limb ; 
Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to head me, 
I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum. 

Lai de daudle, &-c. 



And now, though I must beg, with a wooden arm 

and leg, 
And many a tatter'd rag hanging over my bum, 
I'm as happy with my- wallet, my bottle, and my 

callet. 
As when I us'd in scarlet to follow a drum. 

Lai de daudle, &c 



What tho' with hoary locks, I must stand the wintel 

shocks. 
Beneath the woods and rocks oftentimes for a home, 
21* 



240 BURNS'S POEMS. 

When the t'other bag I soil, and the t'other bottle t.el], 
I could meet a troop of hell at the sound of the drum. 

Lai de daudle, &c 



RECITATIVO. 

Ho ended ; and the kebars sheuk 

Aboon the chorus roar; 
While frighted rattans backward leuk, 

And seek the benmost bore ; 
A ftiiry fiddler frae the neuk, 

He skirl'd out encore ! 
But up arose the martial chuck, 

And laid the loud uproar. 



AIR. 

Tune — " Soldier Laddie.'* 

I. 

1 once was a maid, tho' I cannot tell when, 
And still my delig-Jit is in proper young men: 
Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddie; 
No wonder I'm fond of a sodgcr laddie. 

Sinof, Lai de lal, &,c. 



The first of my loves was a swaggering blade ; 
To rattle the thundering drum was his trade: 
His leg was so tight, and his cheek was so ruddy 
Transported I was with my sodger laddie. 

Sing, Lal de lal, &c. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 247 



But the g"0{lly old chaplain left him in the lurch; 
The sword I forsook for the sake of the church : 
lie ventur'd the soitl, and I risked the body — 
'Twas then I prov'd false to my sodger laddie. 

Sing, Lai de lal, &-c 



Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot, 
The regiment at large for a husband I got ; 
From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was ready, 
I asked no more but a sodger laddie. 

Sing, Lal de lal, Slc. 



But the peace it reduc'd me to bog in despair, 
Till I met my auld boy at Cunningham fair; 
His rags regimental they flutter'd so gaudy. 
My heart it rejoic'd at my addger laddie. 

Sing, Lal de lal, &c 



And now I have lived — I know not how long — 
And still I can join in a cup or a song; 
But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady 
Here's to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie. 

Sing, Lal de lal, &c 



RECITATIVO. 



Then niest outspak a raucle carlin, 
Wha kent sae weel to cleek the sterling, 
For monie a pursie she had hooked, 
And had in monie a well been ducked 



248 BDRNS'S POEMS. 

Her (love liad been a Highland laddie, 
But weary fa' the waefu' woody ! 
Wi' sighs and sobs she tlius began 
To wail her braw John Highlandman 



AIR. 
Tune — " O, jn' ye were dead, guidmaiu^ 



A Highland lad my love was born, 
The Lalland laws he held in scorn ; 
But he still was f^iithfu' to his clan, 
My gallant braw John Highlandinan. 



Sing, hey my braw John Highlandman' 
Sing, ho my braw John Highlandman ! 
There's not a lad in a' the Ian' 
Was match for my John Highlandman 

II. 

With his philibeg, an' tartan plaid. 
An' guid claymore down by his side, 
The ladies' hearts he did trepan, 
My gallant braw John Highlandman. 

Sing, hey, &.c 



We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey, 
An' liv'd like lords an' ladies gay; 



BURNS'S POEMS. 249 

For a Lalland face he feared nana, 
My gallant bravv John Highlandman. 

Sing, hey, &c. 



They banish'd him beyond the sea, 
But ere the bud was on the tree, 
Adown my cheeks the pearls ran, 
Embracing my John Higiilandman. 

Sing, hey, &c. 



But, oh! they catch'd him at the last. 
And bound him in a dungeon fast ; 
My curse upon them ev'ry ane. 
They've liang'd my braw John Highlandmajv 
Sing, hey, &.c. 



And now a widow, I must mourn 
The pleasures that will ne'er return ; 
No comfort but a hearty can. 
When I think on John Higiilandman. 
Sing, hey, &c. 



RECITATIVO. 

A pigmy scraper wi' his fiddle, 

Wha us'd to trysts and fairs to driddle, 

Her strappan limb and gaucy middle, 

He reach'd nae higher, 
Had hol'd his heartie like a riddle, 

An' blawn't on fire. 



250 BURNS'S POEMS. 

WV hand on liaunch, an' upward e'e, 
He croon'd his gamut, one, two, three, 
Then, in an Arioso key, 

The wee Apollo 
Set off wi' Allegretto glee 

His giga solo. 



AIR. 

Tune — " Whistle o'er the lave o%" 

I. 

Let me ryke up to dight that tear 
An' go wi' me to be my dear. 
An' then your ev'ry care an' fear 
May whistle o'er the lave o't. 

CHORUS. 

I am a fiddler to my trade, 
And a' the tunes that e'er I play'd, 
The sweetest still to wife or maid, 
Was whistle o'er the lave o't 



At kirns and weddings we'se be there, 
And O ! sae nicely's we will fare ; 
We'll bouse about till daddie Care 
Sing whistle o'er the lave o't. 

I am, &c. 



Sae merrily the banes we'll pyke. 
An' sun oursels about the dyke 



BDRNS'S POEMS. 251 

An' at our leisure, when we like, 
We'll whistle o'er the lave o't 

I am, &-C. 



But bless me wi' your heav'n o' charms, 
An' while I kittle hair on thairms, 
Hunger, cauld, an' a' sic harms. 
May whistle o'er the lave o't. 

I am, Slc. 



RECITATIVO. 

Her charms had struck a sturdy Caird, 

As weel as poor Gut-scraper; 
He taks the fiddler by the beard. 

And draws a rusty rapier. 
He swoor by a' was swearing worth, 

To speet him like a pliver, 
Unless he would, from that time forth, 

Relinquish her for ever. 

Wi' ghastly e'e, poor tweedle-dee 

Upon his hunkers bended, 
And pray'd for grace, wi' ruefu' face. 

And sae the quarrel ended. 
But though his little heart did grieve, 

When round the tinker press'd her, 
He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve. 

When thus the Caird address'd her. 



053 



BURNS S P0KM3. 
AIR. 

Tune —"C/o»f the Cnudron.'^ 



My bonie lass, I work in brass, 

A tinker is my station ; 
I've travellM ronnd all Christian ground 

In this, my occupation. 
Pve taon the gold, I've been enroll'd 

In many a noble scjuadron ; 
But vain tlioy soarchM, when atf I marclfd 

To go and clout the caudron. 

I've taon tlie gold, &-c. 



Despise that shrimp, that witlier'd imp, 

Wi' a' his noise and cap'rin, 
And tak a share wi' those that bear 

The budi^et and the apron. 
And by that stowp ! my taitli and lioup, 

And by tliat dear Keilbaigie,* 
If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, 

May I ne'er wcet my craigie. 

And by tliat stowp, &.c. 



HKorrATivo. 

The Caird prevail'd — tli' unblushing fair 

In his embraces sunk, 
Partly wi' love o'ercomo Svae sair. 

An' partly she was drunk. 



• A peculiar son of wliiskey, so called, a grcui tuvonle wilh Toosi* 
Niuusio's rlubs. 



KDRNS'S POEMH. 2S3 

Sir Violina, wi' an air 

Tlmt bIiowM a man of spunk, 
WisliM tmison botwcen tlio pair, 

An' made tlic bottle cliinlc 

To their health that night 

But hurchin Ciij)i(l shot a Hhaft 

That playM a dame a shavie, 
Tiic fiddler rak'd her fore and afk, 

Behint the chif.ken cavie. 
Ilcr lord, a wjcrht o' Homer's* crafl, 

The' limpin wi' the Bpavie, 
He hirpl'd up, and lap like daft. 

And shor'd them dainty Davie, 
()' hoot that niji^ht 

lie was a care-deiyinjr blade, 

As ever BacchuH listed; 
Tho' P'ortune sair upon him laid, 

His heart she ever nuss'd it. 
lie had nae wish but — to be jjlad ; 

Nor want, but — when he thirsted! 
He hated nou^rht, but — to be sad; 

And thus the Muse sunr^rosted 
His saufT that night 



AIR. 

Tune — " For a' thai, and a' UuU," 
I. 

I am a Bard of no rorrard 
Wi' gentle folks, an' a' that; 



Homer is allowed to bu the oldest ballad-singer on record. 

22 



254 BURNS'S POEMS. 

But Homer-like, the glowran byke, 
Frae town to town I draw that 

CHORDS. 

For a' that, and a' that, 

And twice as niuckle's a' that ; 

I've lost but ane, I've twa behin', 
I've wife encucrh for a' that. 



I never drank the Muses' stank, 
Castalia's burn, and a' that; 

But tliere it streauis, and richly reami, 
My Helicon I ca' that 

For a' that, «&c. 



Great love I bear to a' the fair, 
Their humble slave, and a' that ; 

But lordly will I hold it still 

A mortal sin to thraw that. 

For a' that, &.C. 

IV. 

In raptures sweet, this hour we meet, 
Wi' mutual love, and a' tliat; 

But for how lang the flie may stang, 
Let inclination law tliat 

For a' tliat, &c. 



Their tricks and craft have put me dafl, 
They've taen me in, and a' that; 

But clear your decks, and here's tlie sex 
1 like tlie jads for a' tliaU 



BURNS'S POEMS. ^5j^ 

For a' that, and a' that, 

And twice as miicklo's a' that; 
My dearest bluid, to do them guid, 

They're welcome till't for a' that 



RKCn'ATFVO 

So sunjj tlie bard — and Nunsic's wa'd 
Shook wi' a thunder of applause, 

Re-echo'd from each mouth : 
They toom'd then- pocks, an' pawn'd their duds, 
They scarcely left to co'cr their fuds 

To quench their lowan drouth. 

Then ovvre again, the jovial tlirang 

The poet did request, 
To loose his pack, an' wale a sang, 
A ballad o' the best: 
He, rising, rejoicing. 

Between his twa Deborahs, 
Looks round him, an' found thenr 
Impatient for the chorus. 



AIR 

TuNK — " Jolly mortals, fill your irlassesJ" 
1. 

Sec tJie sjnoking bowl before us! 

Mark our jovial, ragged ring ! 
Round and round take up the chorua, 

And in raptures let us sing. 



5156 liuuNs's roKMs. 



A fijx tor those by l;i\v prot(X-toJ ! 

liibtTty's ji glorious toast! 
Courts lor cowards wore erected, 

Churches built to ploaso tho prio«t 



What, is title ? what is treasure ? 

What is roputatiou's care ? 
If wo lead a life of pleasure, 

'Tis uo uiatter how or whore. 
A lii,', &c. 



With the ready trick aud fable, 
llouud we wauder all the day; 

Aud at uioht, m baru or stable, 
Jfni;- our doxies ou the hay. 
A iio:, &c.' 



l>oes the tiiiiu-atteuded carriaLTO 
Thro' the country liuhtiM- rover 

l)o(\s \Uo solitM" bed of niarriatro 
Witness bri^httM- sciMjes of love/ 
A fio-, &,c. 



Lil'e is all a rarionnn. 

Wo reoard not how it o-ocs ; 
Ii(M tluMu caut about dectu'uin. 

Who liave charactei-s to los*. 

A fi.r, &c. 



IMIRNS'S rOKMS. 257 



Hero's to bn(l{,^otH, 1)ji{«h, idkI walleta! 

Hero's to ttll the wund'riiijr train! 
Hero's our ra^^trod hralH and callcts ! 

Ono and all cry out, Aujon! 

A liy; lor tlioso by law protected ! 

liiberty's u ^HoriouH feayt! 
Courts for cowards were erected, 

Cimrchos built to plouso the priest. 



DEATH AND Dll. HORNBOOK. 

A TRUE 8T0RV. 

HoMK books are lies frao end to end, 
And sotno great lies were never pcMui'd : 
Kv'm uiiuiHterH, thoy bao been kenn'd, 

In holy rajjture, 
A rousing wliid, at tiiries to vend, 

And nail't wi' Scripture. 

But this that I am gaun to tell, 
Which lately on a i\\<rUi belell, 
Is just as truc's tb(! Deil'H in h-11 

Or Dublin city ; 
That e'er he nearer conies oursol* 

'S a inuckle pity. 

The Clachan yill had made rno canty, 
I was nae fou, but just l^ad plenty; 
22* 



258 iiiruNsN roKiMs. 

1 stachcrM whyloa, bul yet took tent ay 
To free tlie (litcli(;s ; 

An' hillocka, stanca, an' buslioa, konn'd ay 
Fmo jjlmiata un' witches. 

. The risiiiir moon hoii^an to f^lowV 
The (liatant ("^iitmiock hills out owro ; 
To count h(M- horns, wi' a' my pow'r, 

1 HOt myaol' ; 
Ihit whotlicr she had tliroo or four, 

I could nil tell. 



I was como round about tho hill, 
An' todlin down on Willie's mill, 
Sottinjr my afalV wi' a' my skill, 

'J'o kooj) mo sicker ; 
Tho' leeward wiiyh^a, atjfainst my will, 

1 took a bicker. 



I there wi' aometiiiii<j^ did for<xather, 

That put me in an eerie s wither ; 

An awfu' scytlio, out owre ae shouther, 

Clear dan^jfling han«T; 
A tlireo-tae'd leister on the ithor 

Lay, lary^e an' lang. 

Its stature soem'd lan;r Scotch ells twa, 
Tho queerest shape that e'er 1 saw, 
For fiont a wame it had ava ! 

And then, its shanks, 
They were as tliin, as sharp, an' snia' 

As cheeks o' branks ! 



iiiiaNs's I'oi'.MH. 250 



"(itiid o'cn," (pu)' l ; " Frinnd ! hao yo bocn rnawia 
WlioM il.li(M- lullt tirn l)iiny Hiiwiii?"* 
It HeciiiM U) iiiak II kiiiil u' Htiiu', 

JJiil Mdclliiii}'' Hjnik ; 
At length, says I, " V\\r.iu\, wlmro yo gaun ? 

Will yo irn buck?" 



It «pnk rif^ht liowo — "My niimo in Donth! 
But 1)(! nil fl(7'(l." C^iio' l,"(Jui(i faith! 
Yo'ro may 1)«; couw. to ntap my brcuth , 

lint tout me, billio; 
I red ye weel, tiik care o' Hkaith, 

See, tiienj'H a f^nilly!" 

" Onidman," qno' he, " |)nt tip your wliittle, 
I'm no (l(!Hi{rn'd to try itH mottle ; 
But if I did, I wad bo kittlo 

To bo iniHlcar'd, 
1 wad na mind it, no that Bpittle 

Out <»wro my Ixiard." 

**Weel, wccl!" Hayn I, "a biir/riiin be't ; 
Comii, gie's your hand, an' huo we're greo't, 
We'll eaH(! our BhanlcH, an' tak a weat ; 

('ome, gio'H your news ; 
This whyle f yo hao boon inonio a gato, 

At nionio a lionse." 

" Ay, ay ! " quo' ho, an' KJiook hiH lioad, 
"U'h e'en a liinjr, larifr time, indeed, 
Sin' I began to nick tlio trend, 

An' choke the breath: 



• Tlii* ri'iicoiitro h(ipi)ciic<l in Miiod liino, MHT}. 

* All •pidumiiiul fovrr wim then mKing in tlinl country. 



260 BUIINS'S POEMS. 

Folk maun do something for their bread, 
An' sae maun Deatli ! 

" Sax thousand years are near hand fled 

Sin' I was to the hutching bred, 

An' monie a scheme in vain's been laid 

To stap or scar me ; 
Till ane Hornbook's * taen up tlie trade, 

An' faith, he'll waur me! 

" Ye ken Jock Hornbook, i' the Clachan, 
Deil mak his king's-hood in a spleuchan ! 
He's grown sae wool acquaint wi' Buciian,f 

An' itlier chaps. 
The weans hand out their fmgers laughin, 

An' pouk my hips. 

'•^ See, here's a scythe, and there's a dart, 
They hae pierc'd monie a gallant heart ; 
But Doctor Hornbook, wi' his art, 

And cursed skill, 
Has made them baith no wortli a f— t, 

D-mn'd haet they'll kill! 

"'Twas but yestreen, nae farther gaen, 

I tlirew a noble throw at ane ; 

Wi' less, I'm sure, I've hundreds slain, 

But deil-may-care. 
It just play'd dirl on the bane. 

But did nae main 



• This genlleman, Dr Ilorubook^ is, professionally, a brother of th« 
■overeign order of ihe Ferula, but, by intuition and inspiration, is al 
•ace an apothecary, surgeon, and physician. 

t Buchan's Doraesl'c Medicine. 



BURNs's roi:MS. -<'l 

"Hornbook was by, wi' ready art 
And had sac fortified the part, 
That when I looked to my dart, 

It was sae blunt, 
Fient haot o't Avad hae pierc'd the heart 

Of a kail-runt. 

"I drew my scythe in sic a fury, 
I near hand cowpit wi' my hurry ; 
But yet the banld Apothecary 

Withstood the shock; 
I might as weel hae tried a quarry 

O' hard whin rock. 

"Ev'n them he canna get attended, 
Altho' their face he ne'er had kenn'd it, 
Just in a kail-blade, and send it. 

As soon's he smells't, 
Baith their disease, and Avhat will mend it, 

At once he tells't. 

" And then a' doctor's saws an' whittles, 
Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles, 
A' kind o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles, 

lie's sure to hae ; 
Their Latin names as fast he rattles 

As A B C. 

" Calces o' fossils, earth, and trees ; 
True sal-marinum o' the seas ; 
The farina of beans and peas. 

He has't in plenty : 
Aqua-fortis, what you please, 

He can content ye. 



2G2 BURKS'S FOEMS. 

•'Forbye, some new, uncommon weapons, 

Urinus spiritus o' capons ; 

Or mite-horn sliavings, filings, scrapings, 

Distill'd per se ; 
Sal alkali o' midge-tail-clippings. 

And monie mae." 

" Wae's me for Johnny Ged's Hole * now," 
Quo' I, " if that tlie news be true ! 
His braw calf-ward wliare gowans grew, 

Sae wliite an' bonie, 
Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the plough ; 

They'll ruin Johnny ! " 

The creature grain'd an eldrictch laugh, 
And says, "Ye need na yoke the pleugh; 
Kirkyards will soon be till'd eneugh, 

Tak ye nae fear : 
They'll a' be troneh'd wi' monie a sheugh. 

In twa-three year. 

"Whare I kill'd ane, a fliir strae death. 
By loss o' blood, or want o' breath, 
This night I'm free to tak my aith. 

That Hornbook's skill 
Has clad a score i' their last claith, 

By drap an' pill. 

" An honest wabster to his trade, 
Whase wife's twa nicves were scarce weel bred, 
Gat tippencc-wortii to mend her head, 
When it was sair; 



• The ijravc-Uigger. 



BURWS'S POEMS. : 

The wife slade cannie to her bed, 
But ne'er spak mair. 

" A countra laird had tacn tlie batta, 
Or some curmurring in his guts ; 
His only son for Hornbook sets, 

An' pays him well: 
The lad, for twa giiid giinmer pets, 

Was laird hinusel'. 

" A bonie lass, ye kcnn'd her name. 
Some ill-brewn drink had hov'd her wamc, 
She trusLs hersel', to hide her shame, 

[n Hornbook's care : 
Horn sent her afF to her lang hame, 

To hide it there. 

" That's just a swatch o' Hornbook's way ; 
Thus he goes on from day to day, 
Thus does he poison, kill, an' slay, 

An's weel paid for't; 
Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey, 

Wi' his d-mn'd dirt 

" But hark ! Fll tell you of a plot, 
Tho' dinna ye be speaking o't; 
I'll nail the self-conceited sot 

As dead's a herrin; 
Niest time we meet, I'll wad a groat. 

He gets his fairin! " 

But just as he began to tell. 

The auld kirk-haininer strak the bell. 



264 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Some wee sliort hour ayont the twal, 
Which rais'd us baith; 

I took the way that pleas'd myseP, 
And sae did Death. 



A DREAM. 

Thoughts, words, and deeds, the statute blames with reason ; 
But surely dreams were ne'er indicted treason. 

[On reading, in the public papers, the Laureat's Ode, with the othej 
parade of June 4, 1786, the author was no sooner dropt asleep, than ha 
imagmed himself transported to the birlh-day levee ; and in his dream- 
ing fancy, made the foUowiiig address.] 



GuiD morning to your Majesty! 

May heav'n augment your blisses, 
On every new birth-day ye see, 

An humble poet wishes ! 
My hardship here, at your levee, 

On sic a day as this is, 
Is sure an unccjth sight to see, 

Amang the birth-day dresses 
Sae fine this day. 



I see yeVe complimented thrang. 

By monie a lord and lady ; 
" God save the king ! " 's a cuckoo sang. 

That's unco easy said ay ; 
The Poets, too, a venal gang 



BUR>"S'S POEMS. 265 

Wi' rhymes weel-turn'd and ready, 
Wad gar ye trow ye ne'er do wrang, 
But ay unerring steady, 
On sic a day. 



For me ! before a monarch's face, 

Ev'n there I winna flatter; 
For neither pension, post, nor place, 

Am 1 your humble debtor ; 
So, nae reflection on your grace, 

Your kingship to bespatter; 
There's monie waur been o' the race 

And aiblins ane been better. 
Than you this day. 

IV. 

*Tis very true, my sov'reign king, 

My skill may weel be doubted ; 
But facts are chiels that winna ding, 

An' downa be disputed : 
Your royal nest, beneath your wing, 

Is e'en right reft an' clouted. 
And now the tliird part o' the string, 

An' less, will gang about it 
Than did ae day. 



Far be't frae me that I aspire 
To blame your legislation. 

Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire, 
To rule this mighty nation ! 

But faith ! I muckle doubt, my Sire, 
Ye've trusted ministration 

To chaps, wha, in a barn or byre, 
23 



2G6 BDRNS'S POEMS. 

Wad better fill'd their station, 

Than courts yon day. 



And now ye've gien auld Britain peace, 

Her broken shins to plaster; 
Your sair taxation does her fleece, 

Till she has scarce a tester; 
For me, thank God ! my life's a lease, 

Nae bargain wearing faster, 
Or, faith ! I fear, that wi' the geese, 

I shortly boost to pasture, 

I' the craft some day. 



I'm no mistrusting Willie Pitt, 

When taxes he enlarges, 
(An' Will's a true guid fallow's get, 

A name not envy spairges,) 
That he intends to pay your debt, 

An' lessen a' your charges ; 
But, G-d's sake! let nae saving-fit 

Abridge your bonie barges 

An' boats this day. 



Adieu, my Liege! may freedom geek 

Beneath your high protection ; 
An' may ye rax corruption's neck, 

And.gie her for dissection! 
But since I'm here, I'll no neglect^. 

In loyal, true affection, 
To pay your Q,ueen, with due respect, 

My fealty an' subjection. 

This great birth-day 



BURNS'S POEMS. WS!* 



Hail, Majesty most excellent! 

While nobles strive to please ye, 
Will ye accept a compliment 

A simple Poet gies ye ? 
Thae bonie bairn-time, Heav'n has lent, 

Still higher may they heeze ye 
In bliss, till fate some day is sent. 

For ever to release ye 

Frae care that day. 



For you, young potentate o' Wales, 

I tell your Highness fairly, 
Down pleasure's stream, wi' swelling sails, 

I'm tauld ye're driving rarely ; 
But some day ye may gnaw your naila, 

An' curse your folly sairly. 
That e'er ye brak Diana's pales, 

Or rattl'd dice wi' Charlie, 
By night or day. 

XI. 

Yet aft a ragged cowte's been known 

To mak a noble aiver ; 
So ye may doucely fill a throne. 

For a* their clish-ma-claver : 
There him * at Agincourt wha shone, 

Few better were or braver; 
And yet, wi' funny, queer Sir John,t 

He was an unco shaver, 

For monie a day. 

King Henry V f Sir John Falsiaff, Vide Shakspeare. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 



XII. 



Por you, right rev'rend O -, 

Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter, 
Altho' a ribbon at your lug' 

Wad been a dress completer ; 
As ye disown yon paughty dog 

That bears the keys of Peter, 
Then, swith ! an' get a wife to hug, 

Or, trouth ! ye'll stain the mitre 
Some luckless day. 



Young, royal Tarry Breeks, I learn, 

Ye've lately come athwart her; 
A glorious galley,* stem an' stern, 

Weel rigg'd for Venus' barter ; 
But first hang out, that she'll discern 

Your hymeneal charter, 
Then heave aboard your grapple aim. 

An' large upo' her quarter, 

Come full that day. 

XIV. 

Ye, lastly, bonie blossoms a', 

Ye royal lasses dainty, 
Heav'n inak you guid as weel as braw, 

An' gie you lads a plenty ; 
But sneer na British boys awa', 

For kings are unco scant ay ; 
An' German gentles are but sma'. 

They're better just than want ay. 
On onie day. 

Alluding to the newspaper account of a cerlani royal sailor's amour' 



BURNS'S POEMS. 269 



God b.ess you a' ! consider now, 

YeVe unco muckle dautet ; 
But ere the course o' life be thro' 

It may be bitter sautet: 
An' I hae seen their cogg'ie fou, 

That yet hae tarrow'd at it; 
But or the day was done, I trow, 

The laggcn they hae clautet, 
Fu' clean that day. 



SCOTCH DRINK. 

Gie him strong drink until he wink, 

Thai's sinking in despair; 
An' liquor guid to fire his bluid, 

That's prest wi' grief an' care ; 
There let him bouse, an' deep carouse, 

Wi' bumpers flowing o'er, 
Till he forgets his loves or debts, 

And minds his griefs no more. 

Solomon's Proveebs, xxxi. 6, 7 

Let other poets raise a fracas 

'Bout vines, an' wines, an' drunken Bacchus, 

An' crabbit names an' stories wrack us, 

An' grate our lug-, 
I sing the juice Scots bear can mak us, 

In glass or jug. 

O thou, my Muse ! guid auld Scotch Drmk, 
Whether thro' wimpling worms thou jink 
23* 



wo BURNS'S POKMS. 

Or, riclil} brown, ream o'er tlic brink. 

In txlorious fliiom, 
Inspire me, till I lisp and wink. 

To sing- thy name. 

Let husky Wlieat the liaughs adorn, 
And Aits set up their awnie liorn. 
An' Pease and Beans at e'en or morn, 

Perfume the plain, 
Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn, 

Thou king o' grain ! 

On thee aft Scotland chows her cood. 
In souplo scones, the wail o' food ! 
Or tumblin' in the boiling flood, 

Wi' kail an' beef; 
But when thou pours tiiy strong heart's blood. 

There thou shines chief. 

Food fills the wame, an' keeps us livin'; 
Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin', 
When heavy dragg'd wi' pine and grievin' ; 

But oil'd by thee, 
The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin*, 

Wi' rattlin' glee. 

Thou clears the head o' doited Lear ; 
Thou cheers the heart o' drooping Care ; 
Thou strings the nerves of Labor sair, 

At's weary toil ; 
Thou even brightens dark Despair 

Wi' gloomy smile. 

Aft, clad in massy silver Aveed, 
Wi' Gentles thou erects thy head ; 



BURrNS S POEMS. 271 

Vet humlly kind in time o' need, 

'J'lio poor man's wino, 
His wee (Irap parrilch, or his bread, 

Thou kitchens fine. 

Thou art the life o' public haunts ; 

Rut tlice, what wore our fairs and rants ? 

Ev'n ^^odly miintin^'s o' the saunts, 
By tiicc inspir'd, 

When f^aping they besiege the tents- 
Are doubly fir'd. 

That merry niglit we gol the corn in, 
O sweetly then tliou reams the horn in ! 
Or reekin' on a New-Year mornin' 

In cog or bicker, 
An' just a wee drap si)'ritual burn in. 

An' gusty sucker! 

When Vulcan gies his bellows breath, 
An' ploughmen gather wi' tiu3ir graith, 
O rare ! to see the fi/z an' freath 

I' the lugget caup ! 
Then Burnewin comes on like death 

At ev'ry ciiaup. 

Nae mercy, then, for aim or steel ; 
The brawnie, bainio, ploughman chiel'. 
Brings hard owrc'iip, witii sturdy wheel, 

Tiie strong forehammer, 
Till block an' studdie ring an' reel 

VVi' dinsome clamor. 

Wiicn skirlin weanies see the light. 
Thou maks the gossips clatter btighU 



272 nuiiiNs's I'or.ivia. 

How luniliir I'MilV) lh(>ir dtMirios wlinht; 

Will' worth tho niuno! 
Nac lio\v(li(» o(»(n !i soiniil nij^lit, 

Or pliu-.k friio IhtMii. 

WluMi noobors aiijjfcr Jit a pica, 
An' just as wiul as wud can bo, 
llow easy can tho barley broo 

(^loiuont tho quarrel; 
II'h ay(> the choaix'sl lawyi'r's too, 

To tiisti^ till? barrel. 

Alaki* ! thai, o'or my I\liise had roasoii 
To wyto her countrymen wi' treason ; 
IJut monio daily weet their weason 

Wi' liquors nice, 
An' hardly, in a wint(u's season, 

I'i'er spier her |>riee. 

W',\o worth that brandy, buniin<r trash, 
Fell source o' monio a pain an' brash! 
Twins Uionio a jxior, doylt, drunken hasli, 

()' half his days; 
An' siMids, btvsidc, auM Si-ol land's cash 

To h(M" warst tars. 

Ye Si'ots, wha wish auld Soothmd well! 
Yo chief, lo you my tale 1 tell, 
Poor phickless devils like mysel'! 

It sets yon ill, 
W bitter, deathfu' wines to niell, 



May o^ravels ronnd his blather wrench, 
An' flouts ti>rment him inch by inch. 



BURN9*fl rOKMS. 27JI 

Wha twJHts hiH priintlo wi' a glunch 

()' Hour disdain, 
Out ovviT a j^rluHH <)' vvluHkoy-puncii 

Wi' honcHt men. 

() Whiskey! koiiI o' playH an' prnnka ! 

Accept a Hurdio'H humhlo thanks ! 

When wanting thoo, what tunclcHS cranks 

Arc my poor vcrweH ! 
Thou comes — tlujy rattlo i' their ranks 

At ithor'H a s ! 

Thee, ForinloHh ! () sadly lost! 
Hcothmd, himont frao coast to coast ! 
Now colic grips, and harkin hoast, 

May kill uh a'; 
For loyal Forbes' chartered hoast 

Is ta'en aw a' ! 

Time curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise, 
Wha mak tlio whiskey stells their prize! 
Haud up thy han', Deil! anc(!, twice, thrice I 

There, seize the hiiilkers! 
An' hake them up in brun.stane i)ie8 

For poor d — n'<l drinkere. 

Fortune ! if thou'U but gio mo still 
Halo breeks, a scono, an' whiskey gill, 
An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at wiH, 

Tak a' the r(;st, 
An deal't abotit as thy blind skill 

Directs thee best 



274 BURNS'S POEMS. 



THE AUTHOR'S EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER* 

TO THE SCOTCH REPRESExXTATIVES IN THE HOUSE Of 
COMMONS. 

Dearest of distilla ioul last and best — 
How an thou lost ! Pauody on Milton. 

Ye Irish Lords, ye Knights an' Squires, 
Wha represent our burghs an' shires, 
An' douccly manage our affairs 

In parliament ; 
To you a simple Poet's prayers 

Are humbly sent. 

Alas ! my roupet Muse is hearse ! 

Your honors' hearts wi' grief 'twad pierce. 

To see her sittin on lier a — e, 

Low i' the dust, 
An' scriechin out prosaic verse, 

An' like to brust! 

Tell them wha hae the chief direction, 
Scotland an' me's in great affliction, 
E'er sin' they laid that curst restriction 

On AquavitaD ; 
An' rouse them up to strong conviction, 

An' move their pity. 



• This was written before the act anent the Scotch distilleries, of 
■euion 1736; for which Scotland and the author return their most grato 
fal thankjs. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 275 

Stand forth, an' tell yon Premier Youth, 

The honest, open, naked truth ; 

Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth, 

His servants humble: 
The muckle Deil blaw ye south, 

If ye dissemble ! 

Does onie great man glunch an' gloom! 
Speak out, an' never fash your thumb ! 
Let posts an' pensions sink or soom 

Wi' them wha grant 'era : 
If honestly they canna come, 

Far better want 'em. 

In gath'ring votes you were na slack; 
Now stand as tightly by your tack; 
Ne'er claw your lug, an' fidge your back. 

An' hum an' haw; 
But raise your arm, an' tell your crack 

Before them a*. 

Paint Scotland greeting owre her thrissle; 
Her muchkin stoup as toom's a whissle ; 
An' d-nm'd excisemen in a bussle. 

Seizin a stell. 
Triumphant crushin't like a mussel 

Or lampit shell. 

Then on the tither hand present her, 
A blackguard smuggler right behint her, 
An' cheek-for-chow, a chuffie vintner, 

Colleaguing join, 
Picking her pouch as bare as winter, 

Of a' kind coin. 



276 BURNS S rOEMS. 

I« there, tJiat bears the name o' Scot, 
But feels his heart's bluid rising hot, 
To sec his poor auld initlier's pot 

Thus dung- in staves, 
An' plunder'd o' her hindmost groat 

By gallows knaves ? 

Alas ! I'm but a nameless wight, 
Trode i' the mire, an' out o' sight. 
But could I like Montgomeries fight, 

Or gab like Bos well, 
There's some sark necks I wad draw tigl t, 

An' tie some hose well. 

God bless your Honors, can ye see't, 
The kind, auld, cantie Carlin greet, 
An' no get warmly to your feet. 

An' gar them hear it, 
An' tell them wi' a patriot heat, 

Ye winna bear it! 

Some o' you nicely ken the laws. 
To round the period an' pause. 
An' wi' rhetoric clause on clause 

To mak harangues ; 
Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa's 

Auld Scotland's wrangs 

Dempster, a true-blue Scot I'se warran ; 
Thee, aith-detesting, chaste Kilkerran ; * 
An' that glib-gabbet Highland Baron, 
The Laird o' Graham ; f 

• Sir Adam Ferguson, t Tlie present Dulce of Moulrose — {1800.* 



BURNS'S POEMS. 273l 

An' anc, a chap that's dam'd auldfarran, 
Dundas his name. 

Erskine, a spunkie Norland billio ; 
True Campbells, Frederick an' Hay; 
An' Livingstone, the bauld Sir Willie ; 

An' monie ithers, 
Whom auld Demosthenes or TuUy 

Might own for brithers. 

Arouse, my boys! exert your mettle, 
To get auld Scotland back her kettle; 
Or faith ! I'll wad my new pleugh-pettle, 

Ye'll see't or lang, 
She'll teach you, wi' a reekin' whittle, 

Anither sang. 

This while she's been in canc'rous mood, 
Her lost Militia fir'd her bluid ; 
(Deil na they never mair do guid, 

Play'd her that pliskie!) 
An' now she's like to rin red-wud 

About hor Whiskey. 

An' L — d, if ance they pit her till't, 
Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt. 
An' durk an' pistol at her belt, 

She'll tak the streets, 
An' rin her whittle to the hilt, 

I' the first she meets ! 

For G — d sake, Sirs ! then speak her fair, 
An' straik her cannie wi' the hair, 
An' to the muckle house repair, 
Wi' instant speed, 
24 



878 BURNS'S POEMS. 

All* strive wi' a' your wit an' Icar, 
To get remead. 

Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Fox, 
May taunt you wi' his jeers an' mocks; 
But gie liim't het, my hearty cocks ! 

E'en cowe the caddie, 
An' send him to his dicing box 

An' sportin' lady. 

Tell yon guid bluid o' auld Bockonnock's, 
I'll be his debt twa mashlum bannocks, 
An' drink his health in auld Nanse Tinnocks,* 

Nine times a week, 
If he some scheme, like tea and winnocks, 

Wad kindly seek. 

Could he some commutation broach, 

ril f)ledge my aith in guid braid Scotch, 

He need na fear their foul reproach, 

Nor erudition ; 
Yon mixtia-maxtie, queer hotch-potch. 

The Coalition. 

Auld Scotland has a raucle tongue ; 
She's just a devil wi' a rung ; 
An' if she promise auld or young 

To tak their part, 
Tho' by tlie neck she should be strung, 

She'll no desert. 



• A worthy old hostess of the author's, iii Mauchline, whert k« 
■ometimes studied politics over a glass of guid auld Scotch drink. 



BURNS'S I'OEMS. 279 

An' now, ye cliosen Five-and-Forty, 
May still your mithcr's iieart support ye ; 
Then, tho' a minister grow dorty, 

An' kick your place, 
Ye'll snap your fingers, poor an' hearty, 

Before his face. 

God bless your honors a' your days, 
Wi' soups o' kail, an' brats o' claise. 
In spite o' a' the thievish kacs, 

That haunt Saint Jamie's ! 
Your humble Poet sings an' prays 

While Rab his name is. 



PC STB C RI PT. 

Let half-starv'd slaves, in warmer skies, 
See future wines, rich-clust'ring, rise; 
Their lot auld Scotland ne'er envies, 

But blythe and frisky. 
She eyes her free-born, martial boys, 

Tak aff their whiskey. 

What tho' their Phoebus kinder warms. 
While fragrance blooms, and beauty charms ! 
When wretches range, in famish'd swarms, 

The scented groves. 
Or hounded forth, dishonor arms 

In hungry droves ? 

Their gun's a burden on their shouther; 
They downa bide the stink o' pouther ; 
Their bauldest thought's a hank'ring swither 
To Stan' or rin. 



280 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Till skelpt — a shot ; — they're afF a tJxrowther 
To save their skin. 

But bring a Scotsman frae his hill, 
Clap in his cheek a Highland gill, 
Say, such is royal George's will, 

An' there's the foe ! 
He has na thouglit but how to kill 

Twa at a blow ! 

Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease hira ; 
Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him; 
Wi' bluidy hand a welcome gies him: 

An' when he fa's. 
His latest draught o' brcathin' lea'es him 

In fiiint huzzas ! 

Sages their solemn een may steek. 
An' raise a philosophic reek, 
An' physically causes seek. 

In clime an' season; 
But tell me Wliiskey's name in Greek, 

I'll tell the reason ! 

Scotland, my auld respected mither ! 
Tho' whyles ye moistify your leather. 
Till whare ye sit, on craps o' heather, 

Ye tine your dam ; 
(Freedom an' Whiskey gang thegither!* 

Tak aff your dram . 



BDRNS'S rOEMS. 281 



ADDRESS TO THE DEIL. 

O Frim-e ! O Chief of maiiy-lhroiied Pow'rs, 
That led ih' embaUled Senn)hiin lo war. 

Milton. 

O THOU ! whatever title suit thee, 
Auld Ilornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie, 
Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie, 

Clos'd under hatches, 
Spairgee about the brunstane cootie, 

To scaud poor wretches. 

Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee, 
An' let poor damned bodies be ; 
I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie, 

E'en to a deil, 
To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me, 

An' hear us squeel ! 

Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame, 
Far kenn'd and noted is thy name; 
An' tho' yon lowin' heugh's thy hame. 

Thou travels far ; 
An' faith! thou's neither lag nor lame, 

Nor blate nor scaur. 

Whyles, ranging like a roarin' lion, 
For prey, a' holes and corners tryin'; 
Whiles on the strong-wing'd tempest flyirf 

Tirling the kirks ; 
Whyles, in the human bosom pry in', 

Unseen thou lurks 
24* 



2H2 BURNS'S pOEMS. 

I've heard my reverend Grannie say, 
In lanely glens you like to stray ; 
Or where auld ruin'd castles gray, 

Nod to the moon, 
Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way, 

Wi' eldritch croon. 

When twilight did my Grannie summon, 
To say her prayers, douce honest woman ! 
Aft yont the dyke she's heard you bummin', 

Wi' eerie drone ; 
Or, rustlin', thro' the boortrios comin', 

Wi' heavy groan. 

Ae dreary, windy, winter night, 

The stars shot down wi' sklentin' light, 

Wi' you, mysel', I gat a fright, 

Ayont the lough; 
Ye, like a rash-bush, stood in sight, 

Wi' waving sough, 

The cudgel in my nieve did shake. 
Each bristl'd hair stood like a stake, 
When wi' an eldritch stour, quaick — quaick- 

Amang the springs, 
Awa ye squatter'd, like a drake, 

On whistling wings. 



Let warlocks grim, an' wither'd hag^ 
Tell how wi' you on ragweed nags. 
They skim the muirs and dizzy crags," 

Wi''Avicked speed ; 
And in kirk-yards renew their leagues, 

Owre howkit dead. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 283 

Thence countra wives, wi' toil an' pain, 
May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain; 
For, oh! the yellow treasure's taen 

By witching skill : 
An' dawtit, twal-pint Hawkie's gaen 

As yell's the Bill. 

Thence mystic knots nak great abuse, 
On young guidmen, foi.d, keen, an' crouse; 
When the best wark-lume i' the house, 

^ By cantrip wit, 
Is instant made no worth a louse, 
Just at the bit. 

When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord, 
And float the jingling icy-boord, 
Then water-kelpies haunt the foord. 

By your direction ; 
An' 'nighted trav'llers are allur'd 

To their destruction. 

An' afl your moss-traversing spunkies 
Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is: 
The blcezin, curst, mischievous monkies 

Delude his eyes, 
Till in some miry slough he sunk is, 

Ne'er mair to rise. 

When Mason's mystic word an' grip, 
In storms an' tempests raise you up, 
Some cock or cat your rage maun stop^ 

Or, strange to tell ! 
The youngest brother ye wad whip 

Aff straught to h-ll 



284 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Lang syne, in Eden's bonie yard, 
When youthfu' lovers first were pf-itd, 
An' a' the saul of love they sh«!./d 

The raptur'd hour ; 
Sweet on the fragrant, flow'ry swaird. 

In shady bow'r : 

Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing dog 

Ye came to Paradise incog., 

An' play'd on man a cursed brogue, 

(Black be your fa'!) 
An' gied the infant warld a shog, 

'Maist ruin'd a'. 

D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz, 
Wi' reekit duds, an' reestit gizz. 
Ye did present your smoutie phiz 

'Mang better folk. 
An' sklented on the Man of Uz 

Your spitefu' joke? 

An' how ye gat him i' your thrall, 
An' brak him out o' house an' hall. 
While scabs an' blotches did him gall, 

Wi' bitter claw. 
An' lows'd his ill-tongu'd, wicked Scawl, 

Was warst ava? 

But a' your doings to rehearse, 
Your wily snares an' fechtin fierce, 
Sin' that day Michael* did you pierce, 
Down to this time, 

Vide IVrilton. Book VI. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 285 

Wad ding a Thailand tongue, or Erse, 
In prose or rhyme. 

An' now, auld Cloots, 1 ken ye're thinkin 
A certain Bardie's rantin, drinkin. 
Some luckless hour will send him linkin 

To your black pit: 
But, faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin, 

An' cheat you yet ! 

But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben ! 
O, Avad ye tak a thought, an' men', 
Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken — 

Still hae a stake — 
I'm wae to think upo' your den, 

Ev'n for your sake' 



ON THE LATE CAPTAIN GROSE'S PEREGRL 
NATIONS THROUGH SCOTLAND, 

COLLECTING THE ANTIQUITIES OF THAT KINGDOM. 

Hear! land o' cakes, and brither Scots. 
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat's, 
If there's a hole in a' youf coats, 

I rede ye tent it: 
A chiel's amang you taking notes, 

And, faith, he'll prent it 

If in your bounds ye chance to ight. 
Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight. 



286 BURNS'S POEMS, 

O' stature short, but genius bright, 

.That's he — mark weel ; 
And wow ! he has an unco slight 
O' cauk and keel. 

By some auld, houlet-haunted biggin,* 

Or kirk deserted by its riggin, 

It's ten to ane ye'll find him snug in 

Some eldritch part, 
Wi' deils, they say, L — d save's! colleaguin 

At some black art. 

Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or cham'er, 

Ye gipsey-gang that deal in glamor. 

And you, deep-read in hell's black grammar 

Warlocks and witches ! 
Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer. 

Ye midnight bitches! 

It's tauld he was a sodger bred. 
And ane wad rather fa'n than fled ; 
But now he's quat the spurtle blade, 

And dog-skin wallet, 
And taen the — antiquarian trade, 

I think they call it. 

He has a fouth o' ah nick-nackets ! 
Rusty airn caps and jinglin jackets,f 
Wad had the Lothians three in tackets, 

A towmont guid ; 
And paraitch-pats, and auld saut-backets, 

Before the flood. 



• Vide his Antiquities of Scotland f Vide his Treatise on Ancient 
Armor and Weapons. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 287 

Of Eve's first fire he has a cinder; 
Auld Tubal Cain's fire-shool and fender; 
That which distinguished the gender 

O' Balaam's ass ; 
A Drcom-stick o' the witch of Endor, 

Weel shod wi' brass. 

Forbye he'll shape you afF, fu' gleg, 
The cut of Adam's philibeg ; 
The knife that nicket Abel's craig 

He'll prove you fully: 
It was a faulding jocteleg, 

Or lang kail-gullie. 

But wad ye see him in his glee, 
For meikle glee and fun has he. 
Then set him down, and twa or three 

Guid fellows wi' him: 
And Port, O Port! shine thou a Avee, 

And then ye'll see him ! 

Now, by tlie pow'rs o' verse and prose! 
Thou art a dainty chiel, O Grose ! 
Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose. 

They sair misca' thee; 
Fd tak the rascal by the nose, 

Wad say. Shame fa' the« 



288 BURNS S POEMS. 



LINES 

WRITTETW IN A WRAPPER, ENCLOSING A LETTER TO 
CAPTAIN GROSE, TO BE LEFT WITH MR. CAlinONNEL, 
ANTIQUARIAN. 

Tune — " Sir John Malcolm:' 

Ken ye aught o' Captain Grose? 

Igo, and ago, 
If he's amang his friends or foes ? 

Iram, coram, dago. 

Is he south, or is he north ? 

I go, and ago. 
Or drowned in the river Forth ? 

Iram, coram, dago. 

Is he slain by Highland bodies ? 

Igo, and ago, 
And eaten like a wether-haggis ? 

Iram, coram, dago. 

Is he to Abram's bosom gane ? 

Igo, and ago. 
Or hauden Sarah by the wane ? 

Iram, coram, dago. 

Where'er he be, the Lord be near him ! 

Igo, and ago, 
As for the Deil, he daur na steer him ! 

Iram, coram, dago. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 

But please transmit the enclosed letter, 

Ig-o, and ago, 
Which will oblige your humble debtor, 

Iram, coram, dago. 

So may ye hae auld stanes in store, 

I go, and ago, 
The very stanes that Adam bore, 

Iram, coram, dago. 

So may ye get m glad possession, 

Igo, and ago, 
The coins o' Satan's coronation! 

Iram, coram, dago. 



EPIGRAM ON CAPTAIN GROSE. 

The Deil got notice that Grose was a-dying, 

So, whip ! at the summons, old Satan came flying ; 

But when he approach'd where poor Francis lay moan 

ing, 
And saw each bed-post with its burden a-groaning, 
Astonish'd ! confounded ! cried Satan, " By G — d, 
I'll want 'im, ere I take such a d ble load.*** 



• Mr. Grose was exceedingly corpulent, and used to rally himself, 
with the greatest good humor, on the singular rotundity of his figure. 
This epigram, written by Bums in a moment of festivity, was so mucli 
relished by the antiquarian, that he made it serve as an excuse for pro 
onging the convivial occasion tliat gave it birth, to a very late hour. 

35 



290 BURNS'S rOEMS. 



LINES 

ON AN INTERVIEW WITH LORD DAER. 

This wot ye all whom it concerns, 
I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns, 

October twenty-tliird, 
A ne'er-to-be-forgotten day, 
Sae far I spreckled up the brae, 

I dinner'd wi' a Lord! 

IVe been at drucken writers' feasts, 
Nay, been bitch fou 'mang godly priests, 

Wi' rev'rence be it spoken: 
I've even join'd the honor'd jorum, 
When mighty squireships of the quorum 

Their hydra drouth did sloken. 

But wi' a Lord — stand out my shin ! 
A Lord, a Peer, an Earl's son ! 

Up higher yet, my bonnet! 
And sic a Lord — lang Scotch ells twa! 
Our peerage he o'erlooks them a'. 

As I look o'er my sonnet. 

But oh, for Hogarth's magic power! 
To show Sir Bardy's willyart glow'r. 

And how he star'd and stamraer'd. 
When goavan, as if led wi' branks, 
An' stumpin on his ploughman shanks, 

He in the pai-lor hammer'd. 



BURNS S POEMS. 291 

I, sliding, shelter'd in a nook, 
An* at I 1 '^iordship steal't a look 

Like some portentous omen* 
Except good sense and social glee, 
An' (what surpris'd me) modesty, 

I marked nought uncommon. 

I watch'd the symptoms o' the great, 
The gentle pride, the lordly state. 

The arrogant assuming ; 
The fient a pride, nae pride had he, 
Nor sauce, nor state, that I could see, 

Mair than an honest ploughman. 

Then from his Lordship I shall learn, 
Henceforth to meet with unconcern 

One rank as weel's another: 
Nae honest, worthy man need care. 
To meet with noble, youthful Daer, 

For he but meets a brotlier. 



THE INVENTORY. 

♦If ANSWER TO A MANDATE BY THE SURVEYOR 3F TBI 
TAXES. 

Sir, as your mandate did request, 
I send you here a faithfu' list 
O' gudes an' gear, an' a' my graith, 
To wh'^h I'm clear to gie my aith. 



292 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Imprimis, then, for carriage cattle, 
I hae four brutes o' gallant mettle, 
As ever drew afore a pettle. 
My Lan'-afore's * a guid auld has-heen, 
An' wight an' wilfu' a' his days seen* 
My Lan'-ahin'sf a weel gaun fillie, 
That aft has borne mc hamc frae Killie J 
An' your auld burro' nionie a time, 
In days when riding was nae crime ; 
But ance, when in my wooing pride, 
I, like a blockhead, boost to ride, 
The wilfu' creature sae I pat to, 
(L — d pardon a' my sins, an' that to !) 
I play'd my fillie sic a shavie. 
She's a' bedevil'd wi' the spavie. 
My Furr-ahin's § a wordy beast 
As e'er in tug or tow \vas trac'd. 
The fourth's a Highland Donald hastie, 
A d — n'd red-wud Kilburnie blastie ; 
Forbye a Cowt o' Cowt's the wale. 
As ever ran afore a tail. 
If he be spar'd to be a beast. 
He'll draw me fifteen pun' at least 

Wheel-carriages I hae but few, — 
Three carts, an' twa are feckly new ; 
Ane auld wheel-barrow, mair for token, 
Ae leg an' baith the trams are broken; 
I made a poker o' the spin'le. 
An* my auld mither brunt the trin'le. 



• The fore-horse on the lefl-liand, in llie plough. 

t The hiiidmosl on the left-hand, in the plough. 

t Kilmarnock 

i Tlie hindmost horse on the right-hand, in the plough 



BURNa's ruEMS. 293 

-^or men, I've tliree mischievous boys, 
Tun (leils f:r rantin and for noise; 
A g-audsmc.i ane, a thrasher t'other, 
Wee Davoc hauds the nowt in fother. 
I rule them as I ought, discreetly, 
Ar.' aflen labor them completely ; 
An' ay on Sundays, duly, nightly, 
I on the questions targe them tightly ; 
Till, faith ! wee Davoc's turn'd sae gleg, 
Tho' scarcly langer than your leg. 
He'll screed you aff Effectual Calling, 
As fast as onie in the dwalling. 
I've nane in female servan' station, 
(L — d, keep me ay frae a' temptation!) 
I hae na wife ; and that my bliss is. 
An' ye hae laid na tax on misses ; 
An' then, if kirk-folk dinna clutch me, 
1 ken the devils dare na touch me. 

Wi' weans I'm mair than weel contented, 
Heav'n sent me ane mair than I wanted ; 
My sonsie, smirking, dear-bought Bess, 
She stares the daddie in her face, 
Eno.tgh of aught ye like but grace; 
But her, my bonie, sweet, wee lady 
I've paid eneugh for her already ; 
An' gin ye tax her, or her mither, 
B' the L- -d, ye'se get them a' thegither 

And now, remember, Mr. Aiken, 
Nae kind of license out I'm takin' 
Frae this time forth, I do declare, 
I'se ne'er ride norse nor hizzie mair; 
Thro' dirt an' dub for life I'll paddle. 
Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle! 
25* 



294 BURNS'S POEMS. 

]My travel a' on foot I'll shank it, 
I've sturdy bearers, Gucle be thankit. 

The kirk an' you may tak you that, 
It puts but little in your pat: 
Sae dinna put me in your buke, 
Nor for my ten white shillings luke. 

This list, wi' my ain ha*id I wrote it, 
Day and date as under notit; 
Then, know all ye whom it concerns, 
Subscripsi huic^ Robert Burns. 

Mossgid, Feb. 22, 1786. 



TO A LOUSE, 

ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY's BONNET, AT CHURCBi 

Ha ! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie ? 
Your impudence protects you sairly, 
I canna say but ye strunt rarely 

Owre gauze an' lace ; 
The' faith, I fear ye dine but sparely 

On sic a place. 

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner, 
Detested, shunix'd, by saunt and sinner. 
How dare ye set your fit upon her, 

Sae fine a lady ? 
Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner 

On some poor body! 



BU hiss's poems. 295 

Swith, in some bej^gar's liaffet squattle: 
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle 
Wi' itlier kindred juinpin cattle, 

In shoals and nations : 
Whare horn nor bane ne'er dare unsettle 

Your thick plantations. 

Now hand ye there, ye're out o' sight, 
Below the fatt'rils, snug an' tight: 
Na, faith, ye yet! ye'U no be right 

Till ye've got on it, 
The vera tapmost, tow'ring height, 

O' Miss's bonnet. 

My sooth ! right bauld ye set your nose out, 
As plump and gray as onie grozct; 

for some rank, mercurial rozet. 

Or fell red smeddum, 
I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't, 

Wad dress your droddum! 

1 wad na been surpris'd to spy 
You on an auld wife's flainen toy; 
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy, 

On's wyliecoat; 
But Miss's fi.ie Lunardi! fie, 

How dare you do't? 

O, Jenny, dinna toss your head, 
An' set your beauties a' abread! 
Ye little ken what cursed speed 

The blastie's makin ! 
Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread. 

Are notice takin ! 



29<> BURJVS'S POEMS. 

O, wad some Pow'r the giftio gic us 

Til see oursels as ithers see us 1 

It wad frae inonie a blunder free us, 

And foolish notion ; 
What airs in dross an' o;ait wad lea'e 

And cv'n Do^ otion ! 



ADDRESS TO THE TOOTH-ACHE. 

My curse upon tliy venoni'd stang, 
That shoots my tortnr'd cfums ahmg-; 
An' thro' my hio;s g'les nionie a twang', 

Wi' gnawing vengeance I 
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang, 

Like racking engines! 

When fevers burn, or ague freezes. 
Rheumatics gnaw, or colic squeezes. 
Our neighbor's sympathy may ease us, 

Wi' pitying moan; 
But thee, thou holl o' a' diseases, 

Ay mocks our groan ! 

Adown my beard tlie slavers trickle ! 
I tlirow the wee stools o'er the miclde, 
As round the fire the giglets keckle 

To see me loup ; 
While, raving mad, I wish a heckle 

Were in their doup! 

O' a' tlie num'rous human dools, 

111 har'sts, datl bargains, cutty-stools. 



Or worthy frioiuls nickM i' tli(: rnoolH, 

Siul sijrlit to HOQ ! 

The tricks of knuvos, (jr fasli o' fools, 
Thou boar'st the jjrce. 

Where'er that phice be priests ca hell, 
Whence a' the tones o' mis'ry yoll, 
And ranked plajrues their numbers tell, 

In dreadl'u' raw, 
Thou, Toothache, surely bfjar'st the bell 

Aiuanf^ them a' ! 

O thou grim miscliiof-makin;^ chiel, 
That gars the notes of discord squeel, 
Till dafl mankind aft dance a reel 

In gore a shoe-thick ; 
Gie a' the faes o' Scotland's weal 

A townmond's Toothache ! 



TO A HAGGIS. 

Fair fa' your honest, sonsio face 
Great chieftain o' the puJdin-race! 
Aboon them a' ye Uik your place, 

Painch, tripe, or thairm* 
Wcel arc ye wordy of a grace 

As iang's my arm. 

The groaning trencher there you fill. 
Your hurdies like a distant hill, 



898 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Your pin wad help to mend a nill 

In time o' need, 
While thro' your pores tlie dews distil 

Like amber bead. 

llis knife see rustic labor dight, 
An' cut you up wi' ready slight, 
Trenching your gushing entrails bright, 

Like onie ditch ; 
And then, O what a glorious sight. 

Warm-reeking, rich ! 

Then horn for horn they stretch an' strive, 
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive ; 
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve 

Are bent like drums ; 
Then auld guidinan, maist like to rive, 

Bethankit hums. 

Is there that o'er his French ragoidj 
Or olio that wad staw a sow. 
Or fjncasse wad mak her spew 

Wi' perfect sconner, 
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view 

On sic a dinner ? 

Poor Devil I see him owre his trash, 
As feckless as a wither'd rash. 
His spindle-shank, a guid whiplash, 

His nieve a nit; 
Thro' bloody flood or field to dash, 

O how unfit ! 

But mark the rustic, httggis-fed, 

The trembling eartli resounds his tread; 



BUKNS'S POEMS. 299 

Clap in liis walie nieve a blade, 

He'll niak it whistle; 
An' \w^d an' arms, an' heads will ened, 

Like taps o' thissle. 

Ve Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care, 
And dish taem out their bill o' fare, 
Auld Scotland Avants na skinking ware 

That jaups ni hig<ries ; 
But, if ye wish her gratefu' pray'r, 

Gie her a Ilag-gis ! 



THE HOLY FAIR.* 

A r()l)e of seeming: truth and Irusl 

Hid crafty Oljserviitioa; 
And secret Imiig, wiili poison'd crust, 

The dirk of Defunmtion: 
A mask that like the gorget show'd, 

Dye-varymg on the pigeon; 
And for a mantle large and broad, 

He wrapt him in Religion. 

Hypocrisy A-la-modk. 



Upon a simmer Sunday morn, 
When Nature's face is fair, 

•I walked forth to view the corn, 
An' snufi' the caller air: 



• Holy Fair is a common phrase in the ivesl of Sotland for a sacra 
Riemal occasion. 



300 BCRNS'S POEMS. 

The rising sun owre Galston muirs, 
Wi' glorious light was glintin; 

The hares were hirplin down the furs, 
The lav'rocks they were chantin' 
Fu' sweet that day 



As lightsomely I glowVd abroad, 

To see a scene sae gay, 
Three Hizzies, early at the road. 

Cam skelpin' up the way ; 
Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black, 

But ane wi' lyart lining; 
The third, that gaed a-wee-a-back, 

Was i' the fashion shining 
Fu' gay that day. 



The twa appear'd like sisters twin, 

In feature, form, an' claes ; 
Their visage wither'd, lang, an thin, 

An' sour as onie slaes : 
The third cam up, hap-step-an'-Ioup, 

As light as onie lanibie, 
An' wi' a curchie low did stoop, 

As soon as e'er she saw me, 
Fu' kind that day. 



Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, "Sweet lass, 
I think ye seem to ken me ; 

I'm sure I've seen that bonie face, 
But "yet I canna name ye." 

Quo' she, an' laughing as she spak. 
An' taks me by the hands. 



BDRNS'S POEMS. 301 

**Ye, for my sake, hae gien tlie feck 
Of a' the ten commands 

A screed some day 



" My name is Fun — your cronie dear 

The nearest friend ye hae ; 
An' this is Superstiti jn here, 

An' that's Hypocrisy. 
I'm gaun to Holy Fair, 

To spend an hour in daffin ; 
Gin ye'll go thare, yon runkl'd pair. 

We will get famous laughin' 
At them this day." 



Quoth I, " With a' my heart, I'll do't , 

I'll get my Sunday sark on, 
An' meet you on the holy spot : 

Faith, we'se hae fine roniarkin' ! " 
Then I gaed hame at crowdie time. 

An' soon I made me ready ; 
For roads were clad, frae side to side, 

Wi' monie a weary body, 

In droves that day. 



Here farmers gash, in ridin' graith, 

Gaed hoddin by their cotters ; 
There, swankies, ^oung, in braw braid cloth, 

Are springin' o'er the gutters; 
The lasses, skelpin barefit, thrang, 

In silts an' scarlets glitter; 
26 



802 



UUUNS'S I'OEMS 

Wi swcct-milk cheeso, in i. ionic a whanpf, 
An' farls bakM wi' butter 

Fu' cru!U[) that day. 

VIII. 

Whon by tho plato we act our nose, 

Wcel. heaped up wi' lia'penco, 
A ji^reedy j>low'r IJhick Bonnet throws, 

An' Ave maun draw our tippencc. 
Then in we i^o to see the show — 

On ev'ry side they're jiath'rin', 
Sonic carryintj; dales, sonic chairs an' stool, 

And some arc busy blethrin 

Right loud that day. 



Hero stands a shed to fend tlie show'rs, 

An' screen our countra jrontry, 
There racer .less, an' twa-thrce wh-rcs, 

Are blinkin at tho entry ; 
Here sits a raw of tittliu' jades, 

Wi' heavinjjf breast and bare neck. 
An' there a batch of wabster lads, 

151ackg'uardin<j iVae K ck, 

For fun this day. 

X. 

Here some are thinkinof on their sins. 

An' some upo' tlieir clacs; 
Ane cui-sos feet tliat fyl'd his shins, 

Anither sijjhs an' prays. 
On this 4iaiid sits n chosen swatch, 

VVi' screw\l-up, orace-proud faces 



ih/kns'm i'okiMS. 303 



On tliat a Hot o' chaps at wiUcli, 
Tlinui'^ wiiikiii <»n tin; Ijihsos, 
To clmirs tliiil day. 



O happy is i\\n in;iii an' hUist! 

Nao wondnr lliat it |)ri(h; liiin ! 
Whaso aiii dear lass, that he likes boet, 

C'oiiHJS clinkiii down bc'sido him! 
Wi' arm n.'posM on tho chair back, 

lie HwrM^tly d()(!H compo.so him! 
Which, by (h'nrccs, slips round her nccK« 

All's loof »i|)()n hor bosom, 

Unkcim'd that day. 



Now a' the con^n.'^ation o'er 
In silent expectation; 

For H|)ocl8 tiio iioly door, 

Wi' ti(liii<]fs o' damnation. 
Should Ilornie, as in anci(MJt days, 
'Man^' sons o' (i-d present him, 

The very mt/M o' 's face, 

• To's ain het hamo had sent him, 
Wi' fright that day. 



Hear how he clears the points o' faith 
Wi' rattlin an' wi' thum[)in' ! 

Now meekly calm, now wild in wratli, 
lira's stanipin', an' he's jumpin'! 

Ilia len<ifth(!n'd chin, his tnrn'd-up snout, 
His eldritch scpieel and gestures, 



304 BURNS'S POEMS. 

O, how they fire tlie lieart devout, 
Like cantharidian plasters, 
On sic a day. 



But hark ! the tent has chang'd its voice ; 

There's peace an' rest na langer ; 
For a' the real judf^es rise, 

They canna sit for anger. 
opens out his cauld harangues, 

On practice and on morals ; 
An' aff the godly pour in thrangs. 

To gie the jars an' barrels 
A lift that day. 



What signifies his barren shine, 

Of moral pow'rs and reason ? 
His English style, an' gesture fine. 

Are a' clean out o' season : 
Like Socrates or Antonine, 

Or some auld pagan Heathen, 
The moral man he does define, 

But ne'er a word o' faith in 

That's right that day 

XVI. 

In guid time comes an antidote 
Against the poison'd nostrum ; 

For , frae the water-fit, 

Ascends the holy rostrum . 

Sae, up he's got the Word o' G-d, 
An' meek an' miin has view'd it 



BURNS'S POEMS. 305 

While Ccmmon Sense has taen tlie road. 
An' aff, an' up the Cowgate,* 
Fast, fast, that (lav 



Wee , nicst, the guard relieves, 

An' Orthodoxy raibles, 
Tho' in his heart he weel believes, 

An' thinks it auld wives' faibles ; 
But, faith! the birkie wants a manse. 

So, cannily he hums them, 
Altho' his carnal wit an' sense 

Like hafflins ways o'ercomes him, 
At times that day. 



Now butt an' ben, the Change-house fill* 

Wi' yill-caup Commentators; 
Here's crying out for bakes and gills, 

An' there the pint stowp clatters ; 
While thick an' thrang, an' loud an* lang, 

Wi' Logic, an' wi' Scripture, 
They raise a din that, in the end, 

Is like to breed a rupture 

O' wrath that day. 

XIX. 

Leeze me on drink ! it gies us raair 
Than either school or college ; 

It kindles wit, it waukens lair, 
It pangs us fou o' knowledge : 



* A street so aaUed, which faces the leal in 

26* 



306 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Be't •\rhiskey gill, or penny wheep, 
Or onie stron<rer potion, 

It nover fails, on drinking deep, 
To kittle up our notion 

By night or day. 



The lads and lasses blithely bent 

To mind baith saul an' body, 
Sit round the table, weel content. 

An' steer about the toddy. 
On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk, 

They're making observations ; 
While some are cozie i' the neuk, 

An' formin assignations 

To meet some day. 



But now the L — d's ain trumpet touts, 

Till a' the hills are rairin, 
An' echoes back return the shouts ; 

Black is na spairin : 

His piercing words, like Highland P'vorda 

Divide the joints and marrow ; 
His talk o' Hell, where devils dwell 

Our vera sauls does harrow * 
Wi' fright that day. 



A vr^t, unbottom'd boundless pit, 
FiLl'd fou o' lowin brunstane, 



Shakspeare's Ilanalel. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 307 

Wha's ra^in flame, an' scorchin heat, 
• Wad melt the hardest whunstane ! 
The half-asleep start up vvi' fear, 

An' think they hear it roarin, 
When presently it does appear 
'Twas but some neebor snorin, 
Asleep that day. 



*Twad be owre lang a tale to tell, 

How monie stories past, 
An' how they crowded to the yill. 

When they were a' dismist ; 
How drink g-aed round, in cogs an' caupa 

Aman<T the furrns an' benches ; 
An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps, 

Was dealt about in lunches 

An' dawds that day. 



In comes a gaucie, g-ash guidwife, 

An' sits down by the fire. 
Syne draws her kobbuck an' her knife, 

The lasses they are shyer. 
The auld guidmon, about the grace, 

Frae side to side they bother. 
Till some ane by his bonnet lays, 

An' gies them't like a tether 

Fu' lang that day. ' 

XXV. 

Waesucks! for him that gets no laai 
Or lasses that hae naething! 



308 BUIINS'S POEMS. 

Sma' need has he to say a grace, 
Or melvie his braw clacthinjj ' 

O wives, be mindfii' aiice yourscl' 
How bonie huls ye wanted! 

An' dinna, tor a kcbbiick heel, 
Let lasses be allVonted, 

On sic a day ! 



Now Clinkunibell, Avi' rattlin tow, 

Begins to jow an' croon; 
Some swagger luinie the best tliey dow, 

Some wait the afternoon. 
At slaps tlie billies halt a blink. 

Till lasses strip their shoon ; 
Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink. 

They're a' in famous tune 

For crack tliat day. 

XXVII. 

How monie heats this day converts, 

O' sinners and o' lasses ! 
Their hearts o' stane, gin night are gane, 

As sail as onie flesh is. 
Tiiere's some are fou o' love divine; 

There's some are fou o' brandy; 
An' monie jobs that day begin, 

May end in Iloughmagandio, 
' Some itlier day. 



nuuNs's poKMs. 309 



THE ORDINATION. 

For stMisc iliey liUlc owe lo frugal Ileav'n — 
'!'»> please the mob {Iw.y liitlo Uio liule yiv'n. 



KiMMAR-^ocK Wabsters fidjrc an' claw 

An' pour your creoshio nations ; 
An' ye wha leather rax an' draw, 

Of a' denominations : 
Swith to the Laigh Kirk, anc an' a', 

An' there tak up your stations ; 
Then aiF to Bej^rbie's in a raw, 

An' pour divine libations 

For joy this day. 



Curst Conimon Sense, that imp o' hell, 

Cam in wi' Magfrie Lander ; * 
But O aft made her yell, 

An' R sair misca'd her ; 

This day, M' takes the flail, 

An' he's the boy will blaud her! 
He'll clap a shangan on he tail, 

An' set the bairns to daud her 
VVi' dirt this day. 



• Alluding to a scofTm,": biilliid wliicli was inuilo on the admiMion fli 
iiie laio reverend and woMliy Mr. L. lo the liaiyh K.rk. 



810 BURNS'S POEMS. 



Mak haste an' turn King David owre, 

An' lilt wi' holy clangor ; 
O' double verso come gie us four, 

An! skirl up the Bangor: 
This day the Kirk kicks up a stoure, 

Nac mair the knaves shall wrang her 
For heresy is in her power, 

And gloriously she'll whang her 
Wi' pith this day. 

IV. 

Come, let a proper text be read, 

An' touch it aff wi' vigor, 
IIow graceless Ham * leugh at his Dad, 

Which made Canaan a nigger ; 
Or Phineasf drove the murdering blade, 

Wi' whore-abhorring rigor ; 
Or Zipporah, t the scaulding jade, 

Was like a bluidy tiger 

I' the inn that day 



There, try his mottle on the creed. 
And bind him down -wi' caution, 

That Stipend is a carnal weed 
He taks but for the fashion; 

And gie him o'er the flock, to feed, 
And punisii each transgression ; 



* Genesis, ch. ix. ver. 22. 
t Numbers, ch. xxv. ver*8. 
t Exodus, ch. iv ver 25 



BURMS'S POEMS. 3H 

Esjjecial, rams that cross the fteed, 
Gie tliem sufficient thresliin, 

Spare them nae day. 



Now auld Kilmarnock, cock thy tail, 

An 3 toss thy horns fu' canty; 
Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the dale 

Because thy pasture's scanty ; 
For lapsfu' large o' gospel kail 

Shall fill thy crib in plenty, 
An' runts o' grace the pick and wale 

No gien by way o' dainty. 
But ilka day. 

VII. 

Nae mair by Babel's streams we'll weep 

To think upon our Zion; 
And hing our fiddlers up to sleep. 

Like baby-clouts a-dryin. 
Come, screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheepp 

And o'er the thairms be tryin ; 
Oh, rare ! to see our elbucks wheep, 

An' a' like lamb-tails flying 

Fu' fast this day! 

VIII. 

Lang patronage, wi' rod o' aim 

Has shor'd the kirk's undoin. 
As lately F-nw-ck, sair fiarfairn, 

Has proven to its ruin: 
Our Patron, honest man! Glencairn, 

He saw mischief was brewin , 



812 BURNS'S POEMS. 

And, like a godly elect bairn, 
He's wal'd us out a true aiic, 

And sound this day. 



Now R harangue nae nmir, 

But steek your gab tor ever ; 
Or try the wicked town of Ayr, 

For there they'll think you clever; 
Or, nae reflection on your lear. 

Ye may connnonce a shaver ! 
Or to the Nethorton repair. 

An' turn a carper weaver 

Aff hand this day. 



M' and you were just a match, 

We never had sic twa drones ; 
Auld Hori^e did the Laigh Kirk watch, 

Just like a winkin' baudrons : 
An' aye he catch'd tlie tither wretch, 

To fry them in his caudrons; 
But now his honour maun detach, 

Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons, 

Fast, fast, this day. 



See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes. 
She's swingein* through the city; 

Hark how the nine-tail'd cat she plays! 
I vow it's unco j)retty : 

Theie, Learning, Avi' his Greekish face. 
Grunts out some Latin ditty; 



BURNS'S rOKMS. 313 

An' Common Sense is gaun, slic says, 
To mak to Jumie Beattie 

Her plaint this day. 



But there's ■ Morality himsel', 

Embracing a' opinions ; 
Hear, how he gies the tithcr yell, 

Between his twa companions ; 
See, how she peels the skin an' fell, 

As ane were peelin' onions ! 
Now there — they're packed aff to hell. 

An' banished our dominions, 

Henceforth this day. 



O happy day ! rejoice, rejoice ! 

Come bouse about the porter ! 
Morality's demure decoys 

Shall here nao mair find quarter 
M' , R , are the boys. 

That heresy can torture ; 
They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse, 

An' cowe her measure shorter 

By the head some day. 

XIV. 

Come, bring the tither mutchkin ill, 
An' here's for a conclusion: 

To every new-light mother's son, 
From this time forth, Confusion ; 
'^7 



314 BURNS'S POKMS. 

If mair they dtavc us with tlioir din 

Or Patronage intrusion, 
We'll light a spunk, and, ev'ry skin, 

We'll rin tlicni aft' in fusion, 
Like oil, sonic day 



ADDRESS 

TO THE UNCO GUID, OR RIOIDLT RIGHTEOUS. 

My son, iheso mnxims timke ii rulo, 

Ami luinp lliem ay tliejiitlier: 
The nyiii nghieous is a fool, 

'I'ho rigid wiso aiiiUier. 
Tlie cleanest corn that e'er was dig lit 

May hae some jiyles o' call" in ; 
So ne'er a fellow-creature slight 

Tor ramloin fits o' ilullin. 

Solomon. — Eccles. ch. vii., ver. 1& 



O TE wha are sac guid yoursel*, 

Sue pious and sae holy, 
Yc'vo nought to do but mark and tell 

Your neebor's faults nnd folly ! 
Whasc life is like a weel-gaun mill, 

Supplied wi' store o' water, 
The heapit happer's ebbinj still. 

And still the clap plays clatter. 



Hear me, ye venerable core. 
As counsel for poor mortals, 



UUIINS'S FOKMS. 315 

Tliiit frcqticnt pass donee Wisdom's door, 

J'\)r glaikot Folly's ])ort!ils : 
I, for their thoujrjitless, careless sakes, 

Would here propone dofoncos, 
Their donsie tricks, their black mistakea 

Tiieir failin<rs and mischance". 



Ye sec your state wi' thcir's conipar'd, 

And simdder at the niffer ; 
But cast a moment's fair rof^ard, 

What makes the mighty dilfer : 
Discount what scant occasion gave, 

That purity yo pride in, 
And (wliat's aft mair than a' the lave), 

Your better art o' hidiner. 



Think, when your castigated pulso 

Gies now and then a wallo]). 
What ragings must iiis veins convulse 

That still eternal gallop : 
Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, 

Right on ye scud your sea-way ; 
But in the teeth o' baith to sail. 

It maks an unco leeway. 



See social life and glee sit down, 
All joyous and unthinking, 

Till (piite transmogrify 'd they're grown 
Debauchery and drinking ; 

O would they stay to calculate 
Th' eternal consequences; 



516 BURNS'S P OK IMS. 

Or, your myrc dreaded hell to state, 
Damnation of expenses ! 



\c high exalted, virtuous dames, 

Tied up in godly laces, 
Before ye gie poor Frailty names, 

Suppose a change o' cases: 
A dear-lov'd lad, convenience snug, 

A treacherous inclination ; 
But, let me whisper i' your lug, 

Ye're aiblins nae temptation. 



Then gently scan your brother man. 

Still gentler sister woman ; 
Tho' they may gang a kenning wrangj 

To step aside is human: 
One point must still be greatly dark, 

The moving whij they do it; 
And just as lamely can ye mark 

How far perhaps they rue it. 



Who made tlie heart, 'tis he alone 

Decidedly can try us; 
He knows each chord, its various tone, 

Each spring, its various bias : 
Then at the balance let's be mute. 

We never can adjust i.; 
What's done we partly may compute 

But know not what's resisted 



BURNS S POEMS. 317 



THE TWA HERDS.* 

O A* ye pious, godly flocks, 
Weel fed on pastures orthodox, 
Wha now will keep you frae the fox, 

Or worrying tykes, 
Or wha will tent the waifs and crocks. 

About the dykes? 

The twa best herds in a' the wast, 
That e'er gaed gospel horn a blast. 
These five-and-twenty simmers past, 

O' dool to tell, 
Hae had a bitter, black out-cast 

Atween themsel'. 

O M y, man, and wordy R 11, 

How could you raise so vile a bustle, 
Ye'll see how new-light herds will whistle, 

And think it fine ; 
The L — d's cause ne'er gat sic a twistle 

Sin' I hae min'. 

O, sirs ! whae'er wad hae expeckit. 
Your duty ye wad sae negleckit. 
Ye, wha were ne'er by lairds respeckit 
To wear V.ie plaid, 



• T is piece was among the first of our author's productions wliich 
hp sul.nitied to the public, and was occasioned by a dispute beiweea 
■wo clergymen, near Kilmarnock. 

27* 



318 BURNS'S POF.MS. 

But by tie brutes themselves eleckit 
To be their guide. 

W.iit flock wi' M y's flock could rank? 

Sae hale and hearty ev'ry shank, 
Nae poison'd, sour, Anninian stank 

He let them taste; 
Fran Calvin's well, ay clear, they drank, 

O sic a feast ! 

The thummart wil'-cat, brock, and tod, 
Weel kcnn'd his voice tiiro' a' tiie wood, 
lie smelt their ilka hole and road, 

Baith out and in, 
And weel he lik'd to shed their bluid, 

And sell their skin. 

What herd like R 11 tell'd his tale ? 

Ilis voice was heard thro' muir and dale, 
lie kenn'd the Lord's sheep, ilka tail. 

O'er a' the height. 
And saw gin they were sick or hale, 

At the first sight. 

He fine a mangy sheep could scrub, 

Or nobly fling the gospel club. 

And new-light herds could nicely drub. 

Or pay their skin, 
Couli shake them o'er the burning dub, 

Or heave them in. 

Sic twa ! — O do I live to see't ! 
Sic famous twa should disagrcet. 
An names, like villain, iiypocrite, 
Ilk ither glen, 



BURNS'S POEMS. 319 

While new-light herds, wi' laiifrliin spite, 
Say ncithcr's lyin' ! 

A' ye wha tent the jrospel faukl, 

Tliore's D n deep, and P s slmul, 

But chiefly thou, apostle A — d. 

We trust in thee, 
That thou wilt work them, hot and cauld. 

Till they agree. 

Consider, sirs, how we're beset, 
Tiiero's scarce a new herd that we get, 
But comes frae 'mang that cursed set. 

I winna name ; 
I hope frae heav'n to see them yet 

In fiery flame. 

D e has been lang our fae, 

M 11 has wrought us meikle wae, 

And that curs'd rascal ca'd M e, 

And baith the S s, 

Tliat aft hae made us black and blae, 

Wi' vengefu' paws. 

Auld W w lang has hatcli'd mischief, 

We tliought ay death wad bring relief, 
But he has gotten, to our grief, 

Ane to succeed him ; 
A chiel wha'll soundly buff our beef, 

I meikle dread him. 

And monie a ane that I could tell, 
Wha fain woild openly rebel, 
Forbye turn-c^ats amang oursel' ; 
There S — h for ane 



320 BURNS'g POEMS 

I doubt he's but a gray nick quill, 
An' that ye'll fin'. 

O ! a' ye flocks, o'er a' the hills, 

By mosses, meadows, moors, and fells, 

Come join your counsels and your skills 

To cowe the lairds. 
And get the brutes the pow'r themsela 

To choose their herds. 

Then Orthodoxy yet may prance, 
And Learning in a woody dance, 
And that fell cur, ca'd Common Sense, 

That bites sae sair. 
Be banish'd o'er the sea to France ; 

Let him bark there. 

Then Shaw's and D'rymple's eloquence, 

M' ll's close nervous excellence, 

M' — 's patlietic, manly sense. 

And guid M' h, 

Wi' S— th, wha tlirc' the heart can glance, 

May E pack aS. 



BURNS'S POEMS. dU\ 



THE CALF. 

Jd THE REV. MR. , ON HIS TEXT, MALACHI, CH. 

IV. V. 2 — "and they shall go forth, and grow 

DP, LIKE CALVES OF THE STALL." 

Right, sir ! your text I'll prove it true, 

Tho' heretics may laugh ; 
For instance, there's yoursel' just now, 

God knows, an unco calf! 

And should some patron be so kind, 

As bless you wi' a kirk, 
I doubt na, sir, but then we'll find 

Ye're still as great a stirk ! 

But, if the love'-'s raptur'd hour 

Should ever be your lot, 
Forbid it, ev'ry heav'nly Power, 

You e'er should be a stot ! 

Tho' when some kind, connubial deai, 

Your but-and-ben adorns, 
The like has been, that you may wear 

A noble head of horns ! 



And in your lug, most rev'rend James, 

To hear you roar and rowte, 
Few men o' sense will doubt your claimi 

To rank amang the nowte. 



322 BURNS'S POEMS. 

And when ye're number'd wi' the dead, 

Below a grassy hillock, 
Wi' justice they may mark your head — 

"Here lies a famous Bullock!" 



HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER. 

THOU, wha in the heavens dost dwell, 
Wha, as it pleases best thysel'. 

Sends ane to heaven and ten to hell, 

A' for thy glory. 
And no for ony guid or ill 

They've done afore thee! 

1 bless and praise thy matchless might, 
When thousands thou hast left in night. 
That I am here afore thy sight, 

For gifts an' grace, 
A burnin' an' a shinin' light. 
To a' this place. 

What was I, or my generation, 
That I should get such exaltation ? 
I, wha deserve sic just damnation. 

For broken laws, 
Five thousand years 'fore my creation, 

Thro' Adam's cause. 

When frae my mither's womb I fell. 
Thou might hae plung'd me into hell. 



BURxNs's POEMS. 323 

To gnash my gums, to weep and wail, 

In burnin' lake, 
Whare damned devils roar and yell, 

Chain'd to a siaik. 

Ye* I am here, a chosen sample, 

To show thy grace is great an' ample; 

I'm here a pillar in thy temple, 

Strong as a rock, 
A guide, a buckler, an' example 

To a' thy flock. 

O Lord, thou kens what zeal I bear, 
When drinkers drink, and swearers swear, 
And singin' here, and dancin' there, 

Wi' great an' sma' : 
For I am keepit by thy fear. 

Free frae tliem a'. 

But yet, O Lord ! confess I must, 
At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshly lust; 
An' sometimes, too, wi' warldly trust 

Vile self gets in ! 
But thou remembers we are dust, 

Defil'd in sin. 



Besides I farther maun allow, 

Wi' Lizzie's lass, three times I trow; 

But, Lord, that Friday I was fou, 

When I came near her, 
Or else, thou kens, thy servant true 

Wad ne'er hae steer'd her. 



324 BUUIVS'S POKM3. 

Maybe thou lots this lloshly thorn 

Bosct thy servant e^cn and morn, 

Lest lie owro liii^^h and proud sliould turn, 

'Cause he's sac gillod ; 
If sac, thy han' maun e'en be borne, 

Until thou lift it. 

Lord, bless thy chosen in this place, 
For here thou hast a chosen race ; 
But God confound their stubborn face, 

And blast their name, 
Wha bring thy ciders to disgrace, 

An' public shame. 

Lord, mind G — n H n's deserts, 

He drinks, an' swears, an' plays at cartjg. 
Yet has sae monie takin' arts, 

Wi' grit an' sma', 
Frae God's ain priest the people's heart! 

lie steals avva'. 

An' whan he chasten'd him tlierefor, 
Thou kens how he bred sic a splore, 
An' set the warld in a roar" 

O' laughin' at us ; 
Curse thou his basket and his store, 

Kail an' potatoes. 

Lord, hear my earnest cry an' pray'r. 

Against that prcsbyt'ry o' Ayr ; 

Thy strong right hand, Lord, make it bare, 

Upo' their heads ! 
Lord, weigh it down, an' dinna spare, 

For their misdeeds. 



O Lord, my God, tlint frlib-tonfru'd A n, 

My vpry hoart an' sail! arc quaking 

To think how wo stood swoatin', ahakin*, 

An' d d wi' dread, 

Wiiile ho, wi' hinj^infr lipa and snakin', 

Ilchl up his head. 

Tiord, in the day of vcnfrcancc try him, 
Lord, visit thcin wha did employ him, 
An' pass not in thy mercy by 'cm. 
Nor hear their pray'r ; 
But for tliy pooj)le'H sake, destroy 'em, 
And dinna spare. 

But, liord, remember me and mine 
Wi' mercies temp'ral and divine. 
That I for gear and grace may shmo, 

KxcellM by nane; 
An' a' tlie glory shall be thine. 

Amen, Amen. 



EPITAPH ON HOLY wn.Lia 

IIerk Holy Willie's sair-worn clay 
']\ikes up its last abode; 

His saul has taen some other way, 
1 fear the lefl-hand road. 



Stop ! there he is as siire's a gun, 
Poor silly body, sec him ; 
28 



BURNS'S POEMS. 



Nae wonder he's as black's the gmiif 
Observe wha's standing wi' him. 

Your brunstane devilship, 1 see, 
Has got him there before ye ; 

But baud your nine-tail cat a-wee, 
Till ance you've heard my story. 

Your pity I will not implore, 

For pity ye hae nane ; 
Justice, alas 1 has gien him o'er. 

And mercy's day is gaen. 

But hear me. Sir Deil as ye are, 
Look something to your credit, 

A coof like him wad stain your name, 
If it were kent ye did it. 



THE KIRK'S ALARM.* 

A SATIRE. 

Orthodox, orthodox, wlia 

Let me sound an alarm to your conscience ; 
There's a heretic blast has been blawn in the wast 

That what is no sense must be nonsense. 



* Thi» poem was wrilleii a slion time afier tljc publication of Dr 
M'GiU's Eseay. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 327 

Dr Mac,* Dr. Mac, you sliould stretch on a rack, 

To strike evil-doers wi' terror, 
To join faith and sense upon onie pretence, 

Is heretic, damnable error. 

Town of Ayr, Town of Ayr, it was mad, I declare, 

To meddle wi' mischief a-brewing- ; 
Provost John is still deaf to tlie church's relief. 

And orator Bobf is its ruin. 

DVymple mild, | D'rymple mild, tho' your heart's like 
a child, 

And your life like the new-driv'n snaw, 
Yet that winna save ye, auld 8atan must hae ye, 

For preaching that three's ane and twa. 

Rumble John, § Rumble John, count the steps wi' a 
groan, 

Cry the book is wi' heresy cramm'd ; 
Then lug out your ladle, deal brimstone like adle, 

And roar every note of the damn'd. 

Simper James, || Simper James, leave the fair Killie 
dames, 

There's a holier chase in your view; 
I'll lay on your head, that the pack ye'll soon lead, 

For puppies like you there's but few 

Singet Sawney ,1T Singet Sawney, are ye herdingr the 
penny. 
Unconscious what evils await? 



* Dr. JM'niii. t R 1 A— k— n. 

t Mr. D— m— le. J Mr. R-ss-U. 
U Mr. M'K— y. H Mr. M v. 



328 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Wi' a jump, yell, and howl, alarm every soul, 
For the foul thief is just at your gate. 

Daddy Auld,* Daddy Auld, there's a tod in the fauld, 

A tod meikle waur than the Clerk; 
T'lo' ye can do little skaith, ye'll be in at the deatJi 

An' if ye canna bite, ye may bark. 

Davie Bluster, f Davie Bluster, if for a saint ye do 
muster, 
The corps is no nice of recruits ; 
Yet to worth let's be just, royal blood ye might boast, 
• If tlic ass was the king of the brutes. 

Jamy Goose, J Jamy Goose, 'ye hae made but toom 
roost, 

In hunting the wicked lieutenant; 
But the Doctor's your mark, for the Lord's haly ark, 

He has cooper'd, and caw'd a wrang pin in't 

Poet Willie, § Poet Willie, gie the Doctor a volley, 
Wi' your liberty's chain, and your wit; 

O'er Pcgasus's side ye ne'er laid astride. 
Ye but smelt, man, the place where he sh-t. 

Andro Gouk, |; Andro Gouk, ye may slander the book, 
And the book not the waur, let me tell ye! 

Ye are rich, and look big, but lay by hat and wig, 
And ye'll hae a calf's head o' sma' value. 



• Mr. A— d. t Mr. G t, of O— 1- 

t Mr. Y— g,of C~n~k. ♦ Mr. T— b— s,of Ayr. 

Dr. A. M- 11. 



BUIUNS'S POEMS. 32S 

Barr Steenie, * Barr Steenie, what mean ye ? what 
mean ye ? 

If ye'll meddle nae mair vvi' the matter, 
Ve may hae some pretence to havins and sense, 

Wi' people wha ken ye nae better. 

Irvine Side, f Irvine Side, wi' your turkey-cock pride, 

Of manhood but sma' is your share ; 
Ye've the figure, 'tis true, ev'n your faes will allow, 

And your friends they dare grant ye nae mair. 

Muirland Jock, I Muirland Jock, when the Lord makes 
a rock 

To crush Common Sense for her sins ; 
If ill manners were wit, there's no mortal so fit 

To confound the poor Doctor at ance. 

Holy Will, § Holy Will, there was wit i' your sku'j, 
When ye pilfer'd the alms o' the poor ; 

The tnnmer is scant, when ye're taen for a saint, 
Wha should swing in a rape for an hour. 

Calvin's sons, Calvin's sons, seize your sp'ritual guns, 

Ammunition you never can need ; 
Your hearts are the stuff, will be powther enough. 

And your skulls are store-houses o' lead. 

I'oet Burns, Poet Burns, wi' your priest-skelping turns, 
Why desert ye your auld native shire ? 

Your Muse is a gipsic, e'en tho' she were tipsie, 
She could ca' us nae waur than we are. 



* S u Y-g-, of B— r. t Mr. S h, of G- 

j Mr. S d. § All Elder in M— « 

28* 



330 BURNS'S POEMS. 



LETTER TO JOHN GOUDIE, KILMARNOCK, 

ON THE PUBLICATION OF HIS ESSAYS. 

« 

O Goudie! terror o' the whigs, 

Bread o' black coats and rev'rend wigs, 

Soor Bigotry, on her last legs, 

Girnin looks back, 
Wishing the ten Egyptian plagues 

Wad seize you quick. 

Poor gapin', glowrin' Superstition, 

Waes nie ! she's in a sad condition: 

Fly, bring Black Jock, her state physician, 

To see her water ; 
Alas ! tliere's ground o' great suspicion 

She'll ne'er get better. 

Auld Orthodoxy lang did grapple, 
But now she's got an unco ripple ; 
Haste! gie her name up i' the chapel, 

Nigh unto death; 
See how she fetches at the thrapple, 

An' gasps for breath ! 

Enthusiasm's past redemption, 

Gaen in a galloping consumption, 

Not a' the quacks, wi' a' their gumption, 

Will ever mend her ; 
Her feeble pulse gies strong presumption 

Death soon will end her. 



BURNS'S I'ORIVIS. 331 

'Tis yo'i ind Taylor* ;ire the chief 
Wha are to blame for this mischief; 
Bit g'm the Lord's ain focks gat leave, 

A toom tar barrel 
All' twa red peats wad send relief, 

An' end the quarrel. 



\ DEDICATION TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESa 

ExiMX'T na, sir, in this narration, 
A fleechiiit^, flecth'rin' dedication, 
To nmse you up, an' ca' you guid. 
An' sprung o' great an' noble bUiid, 
Because ye're surnani'd like His Grace, 
Perhaps related to the race ; 
Then, when I'm tir'd — and sae are ye, 
Wi' monie a fulsome, sinfu' lie, 
Set Uj) a face, how I stop short. 
For fear your modesty be hurt 

This may do — maun do, sir, wi' them wna 
Maun please the great folk for a wamefou ; 
For me, sae laigh I needna bow, 
For, Lord be tliankit ! I can plough ; 
And when I downa yoke a naig, , 

Then, Lord be thankit! I can beg; 
Sae I shall say, an' thtit's nae flalt'rin', 
It's just sic Poet, an' sic Patron. 



Dr. Taylor, of Norwich 



338 BURNS'S POEMS. 

The Poet, some gnid ang^el help him 
Or else, I fear some ill ane skolp hiin, 
He may do wecl for a' he's done yet, 
But only he's no just begun yet. 



The Patron, (Sir, ye maun forgie me, 
I winna lie, come what will o' me,) 
On ev'ry hand it will allow'd bo, 
He's just — nae better than lie should be, 

I readily and iVecly grant, 
He downa see a poor man want; 
What's no his ain he winna tak it, 
What ancc he says he winna break it ; 
Aught he can lend he'll no refus't, 
Till aft his goodness is abus'd: 
And rascals Avhyles that do him wrang, 
Ev'n that, he does not mind it lang : 
As master, landlord, husband, father, 
He does nae fail his part in eitJier. 

But then, nae thanks to him for a' that, 
Nae godly symj)toui ye can ca' that ; 
It's naething but a milder feature 
Of our poor sinfu' corrupt nature : 
Ve'll get the best o' moral works, 
'Mang black Gentoos and pagan Turks, 
Oi" hunters wild on Ponotaxi, 
Wha never heard of orthodoxy. 
That he's the poor man's friend in need, 
The gentleman in word and deed, 
t's nae thro' terror o' danmation : 
It's just a carnal inclination. 



BURNS'S J'OEMS. 33lJ 

Morality ! thou deadly bane, 
Thy tens o' thousands tliou hast slain! 
Vain is iiis hope, whose stay and trust is 
In tnoral mercy, truth, and justice ! 

No — stretch a point to ce.cli a plack; 
Abuse a brother to his back , 
Steal thro' a winnock frae a wh-re, 
But point to the rake that takes the door ; 
Be to l!ie poor like onie whunstane. 
And baud their noses to the grunstane; 
Pl^ ev'ry art o' legal thieving : 
No matter, stick to sound believing. 

Learn three-mile prayers, and half-mile graces, 
Wi' weel-spread looves, an' lang wry faces ; 
Grunt up a solemn, lengthen'd groan, 
And damn a' parties but your own: 
I'll warrant, then, ye're nae deceiver, 
A steady, sturdy, staunch believer. 

O ye wha leave the springs of C-h-m, 
For gumlie duds of your ain delvin ! 
Ye sons of heresy and error, 
Ye'll some day squeel in quakin terror ! 
When Vengeance draws the sword in wrath, 
And in the fire throws the sheath ; 
When Ruin, with his sweeping besom, 
Just frets till heav'n commission gics him; 
While o'er the harp pale mis'ry moans, 
And strikes the ever-deep'ning tones. 
Still louder shrieks, and heavier groans ! 

Your pardon. Sir, for this digression, 
I maist forgot my Dedication ' 



334 BDRNS'S P0EM9. 

But when Div'nity conies cross me, 
My readers still are sure to lose me. 

So, Sir, ye see 'twas nae daft vapcr, 
But I maturely thought it proper. 
When a' my works I did review. 
To dedicate them, Sir, to you ; 
Because (ye need na tak it ill) 
I thought them something like yoursel'. 



Then patronize them wi' your favor, 
And your petitioner shall ever — 
I had amaist said, ever prm/, 
But that's a word I need na say ; 
For prayin I hae little skill o't; 
I'm baith dead-sweer, an' wretched ill o't j 
But ise repeat each poor man's pray'r. 
That kens or hears about you, Sir : — 



" May ne'er misfortune's growling bark, 
liowl thro' the dwelling o' the Clerk! 
May ne'er his gen'rous, honest heart. 
For that same gen'rous spirit smart! 

May K 's far honor'd name, 

Lang beet his hymeneal flame. 

Till H s, at least a dizen, 

Are frae their nuptial labors risen ; 
Five bonie lasses round their jable. 
And seven braw fellows, stout an' able 
To serve their king and country weel. 
By word, or pen, or pointed steel ! 
May health and peace, with mutual rays. 
Shine on the evening o' his days ; 
Till his wee curlie John's ier-oe 



BURWS'S POEMS 33i 

Wlicn ebbing life nae mair shall flo-vv, 
The last, sad mournful rites bestow ! " 

I will not wind a lang conclusion, 
Wi' complimentary effusion; 
But whilst your wishes and endeavors 
Are blest wi' fortune's smiles and favors, 
I am, dear Sir, with zeal most fervent, 
Your much indebted, humble servant. 

But if (which powers above prevent) I 
That iron-hearted carl. Want, 
Attended in his grim advances. 
By sad mistakes and black mischances, 
While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him 
Make you as poor a dog as I am, 
Your humble servant then no more ; 
For who would humbly serve the poor? 
But, by a poor man's hopes in Heav'n! 
While recollection's pow'r is given, 
If, in the vale of humble life. 
The victim sad of Fortune's strife, 
I, thro' the tender gushing tear. 
Should recognize my master dear. 
If friendless, low, we meet together. 
Then, Sir, your hand — my friend and brother, 



336 BURNS'S POEMS. 



LINES 

ADDRESSED TO MR. JOHN RANKEN. 

Ae day, as death, that grousome carl, 
Was drivin' to the tither wari' 
A mixtie-maxtie motley squad, 
And monie a guilt-bespotted lad ; 
Black gowns of each denomination, 
And thieves of every rank and station, 
From him that wears the star and garter 
To him that wintles in a halter ; 
Asham'd himself to see the wretches. 

He mutters, glow'ring at the b es, 

" Ay G — , I'll not be seen behint them. 
Nor 'mang the sp'ritual corps present them, 
Without, at least, ae honest man, 
To grace this damn'd infernal clan." 
By Adamhill a glance he threw, 
" L — d G— d ! " quoth ho, " I have it now ; 
There's just the man I want, in faith : 
And quickly stopped Ranken'a breatiu 



BDKNS S POEMS. 33^ 



LINES 

WRITTEN BT AURXS, WHILE ON HIS DEATH-BED, TO 

TUE SAME. 

He who i f Ranken sangf, lies stiff and dead, 
And a grocn grassy hillock hides his head ; 
Alas! alas! a devilish chansre indeed! 



EXTEMPORE. 

[At a meeting of the Dumfriesshire Volunteers, hehl to commemo- 
rate tlie anniversary of Rodney's victory, April 12lh, 1782, Burns was 
called upon for a song, instead of which he delivered the following lines 
exieinporc] 

Instead of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast, — 
Here's the memory of those on the twelfth tiiat we lost , 
That we lost, did I say ? nay, by Heaven ! that we 

found, 
For their fame it shall last while the world goea 

round. 
The next in succession, I'll give you the king. 
Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he swing: 
And here's the grand fabric, our free constitution. 
As built on the base of the great revolution ; 
And, longer with politics not to be cramm'd, 
Be anarchy curs'd, and be tyranny damn'd ; 
And wlio would to liberty e'er prove disloyal, 
May his son be a hangman, and he the first triaL 
29 



338 BURNS'S POEMS 



EXTEMPORE, 

ON THE LATE MR. WILLIAM SMELLIE 

To Crochallan came * 
The old cock'd hat, the gray surtout, the same; 
His bristling beard just rising in its might, 
'Tvvas four long nights and days to shaving-night; 
His uncomb'd grizzly locks, wild staring, thatch'd 
A head for thought profound and clear, unmatch'd 
Yet, tho' his caustic wit was biting, rude, 
Ilis heart was warm, benevolent, and good. 



» 



TO MR. S**E, 

ON REFUSING TO DINE WITH IIIM, AFTER HAVING BEEN 
PROMISED THE FIRST OF COMPANY, AND THE FIRST 
COOKERT. 

No more of your guests, be they titled or not, 

And cook'ry the first in the nation; 
Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit, 

Is proof to all other temptation. 
Deceiiiher, 17, 1795. 



• Mr. Smcllie ami Burns were both members of a club in Edinburgh, 
called the Crocliullaii Fencibles. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 335 



TO MR. S**E, 

WITH A PRESENT OF A DOZEN OF PORTER. 

O HAD the malt thy strength of mind, 
Or hops the flavor of thy wit, 

'Twere drink for first of human kind, 
A gift that e'en for S**e were fit 
Jerusalem Tavern, Dumfries. 



EXTEMPORE, 

WRITTEN IN ANSWER TO A CARD FROM AN INTIMATE 
OF BURNS'S, INVITING HIM TO SPEND AN HOUR AT 
A TAVERN. 

The king's most humble servant, 

Can scarcely spare a minute ; 
But I'll be wi' ye, by-an'-by, 

Or else the Deil's be in it 



340 BURNS'S POEMS. 



EXTEMPORE, 

WRITTEN IN A LADY's POCKET-BOOK. 

Grant me, indulgent Ileav'n! that I may live 
To see the miscreants feel the pains thoy give; 
Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air. 
Till slave and despot be but things which were. 



LINES 

ON Bliss J. SCOTT, OF AYR. 

Oil! had each Scot of ancient times. 
Been Jeany Scott, as thou art, 

The bravest heart on English ground, 
Had yielded like a coward. 



LINES 



WRITTEN UNDER THE PICTURE OF THE CELEBRATED 

MISS BURNS. 

Cease, ye prudes, your envious railing. 
Lovely Burns has charms — confess ' 

True it is, she had one failing ; 
Had a woman ever less.? 



BURNS'S POEMS. 341 



LINES, 

en BEING ASKED WHY GOD HAD MADE MISS DAVIS SO 

LITTLE, AND MISS SO LARGE; — WRITTEN ON 

A PANE OF GLASS, IN THE INN AT MOFFAT. 

Ask why God made the gem so small, 

And why so huge the granite ! 
Because God meant mankind should set 

The hiffher value on it. 



LINES 



WRITTEN AND PRESENTED TO MRS. KEMBLE, ON SEK- 
INO HER IN THE CHARACTER OF YARICO. 

Kemble, thou cur'st my unbelief 

Of Moses and his rod ; 
At Yarico's sweet notes of grief, 

The rock with tears had flow'd* 

Dumfries Theatre^ 1794. 
29* 



343 BURIVS'S POEMS, 



LINES 

1VRITTF.N ON WINItOWd OF TllK Ol-OHK TAVKRN, 
IH'MFUIKS. 

The f^Tay^H^ii-d, old Wisdom, in:iy boiist of his trous« 
11 res, 

Givo nio Avitli ^ny l'\)lly to live ; 
I frriuit liiiu his ciihn-bloodod, time-settled pleasures. 

IJut Folly has raptures to ii^ive. 



I MUKDER Ijatc by liold or flood, 
Tho' glory's name uiny screen us; 

In wars at luunc FlI spend my b]or»J[ 
Lile-ijfivin^' war of V(Muis. 

The deities that 1 adore, 

Are social Peace and Plenty: 

Fm bettor pleas'd to make one more 
Than be the death of twenty. 



My bottle is my holy pool, 

That heals tho wounds o' care and doo» 

And pleasure is a wanton txout, 

An' ye drink it, ye'll find iiiin out. 



BUKiNS's I'OKMS. 343 

Iw politico if thou would'st mix. 

And mean thy fortunos be ; 
Hoar this in mind — ho deaf and blind — 

Let jjroat folkn liear and sec. 



LINES 

WRITTKN ON A WIIVHOW, AT TMK KINu'h-ARMH TAVKIirf, 
DUMFRIKH. 

Vk men of wit and wealth, wi' a' tliis wnccjrin^ 
'(Jninst poor KxciBcmon, give the cause a hearing: 
VVh.it iiro your landlord'H rout-rolls? taxing hif^ers : 
VVlmt prcmiors, what? ov(;n Monarch's iui^''hty {riui'M'rs: 
Nay, wh;it art; pri(!Hts? tin».s(.' H(MMnii)^ fJ[^>dly wiso men 
What arc thoy, pray ? hut spiritual Excisemen. 



A VERSE, 

•ItKHKNTKI) IJY TUK AlITHOU, TO TUK MASTKR OK A 
IIOIIMK, AT A l'hA<;K IN TUK nKHII.ANOS, WHKRK UK 
MAO ^I:KN nOHl'ITA«I-Y KNTKRTAINKU. 

VVmk.n l)(!;ith'H d;irl( Ktronm I lorry o'(ir — 

A l.iirio that surc^ly shall como; 
\u lloavon itself, I'll ask no more, 

Than just a Highland wolcomo 



^^4 BURNS'S POEMS. 



EPIGRAM. 

[Burns, accompanied by a friend, having gone to Inverory at a tima 
when some oompaiiy were there on a visit to the Duke of Argyll, fimling 
himself and his companion entirely neglected by the innkeeper, whose 
whole attention seemed to be occupied whh the visiters of his Grace, 
expressed his disapprobation of tlie incivility with which they were 
treated, in the following lines.] 

Whoe'er he be that sojourns here, 

I pity much his case, 
Unless he comes to wait upon 

The Lord their God his Grace. 
There's naething here but Highland pride, 

And Highland scab and hunger ; 
If Providence has sent me here, 

'Twas surely in an anger. 



EPIGRAM 



ON ELPHINSTONe's translation of MARTIAX's EPIi 
GRAMS. 

O THOD whom Poetry abhors, *^ 

Whom Prose has turned out of doors, 
Heard'st thou that groan? — proceed no further, 
Twas laurell'd Martial roaring. Murder 



BURNS S POEMS. 



347 



VERSES 

WRITTEN ON A WINDOW OF THE INN AT CARRON 

We cam na here to view your warks, 

In hopes to be mair wise, 
But only lest we gang to hell, 

It may be nae surprise : 

But when we tirled at your door, 
Your porter dought na liear us ; 

Sae may, should we to hell's yetts come, 
Your billy Satan sair us ! 



EPITAPH 

ON A CELEBRATED RULING ELDER. 

Here souter **** in death does sleep 
To h-U, if he's gane thither, 

Satan, gie him thy gear to keep! 
He'll haud ft weel thegither. 






BURNS'S POEMS. 



ON A NOISY POLEMIC. 

Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes: 

O Deatli ! it's my opinion, 
Thou ne'er took such a bletli'rin' b-tch 

Into thy dark dominion! 



ON WEE JOHNNY 

Hie jacel wee Johnnie. 

Whoe'er tliou art, O reader, know 
That Death has murdcr'd Johnny ! 

An' here his body lies fu' low — 
For saul, he ne'er had ony. 



FOR G. H., ESa 

The poor man weeps — here G n sleeps, 

Whom canting wretches blam'd : 

But witli such as he, where'er he bo, 
May I be sav'd or damn'd ! 



BURNS S POEMS. 347 



ON A WAG IN MAUCHLINE, 

Lament him, Maucliline husbands a', 

He aflcn did assist ye : 
For had ye staid whole weeks awa', 

Your wives, they ne'er had misa'd ye. 

Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye pass 
To school in bands thegither, 

O tread ye lightly on the grass, — 
Perhaps he was your father' 



ON JOHN DOVE, 

INN-KEEPER, MAUCHLINE. 

Here lies Johnny Pidgeon; 

What was his religion, 

Whae'er desires to ken. 

To some other warl' 

Maun follow the carl, 

For here Johnny Pidgeon had nane. 

Strong ale was ablution, 
Small beer persecution, 
A dram was memento mjori; 
But a full flowing bowl 
Was the saving his soul, 
And Port was celestial glory. 



i'^lS BURNS'S POEMS. 



ON WALTER S . 

Sic a reptile was Wat, 

Sic a miscreant slave, 
That the worms even d d him, 

When .aid in his grave. 

" In his flesh tliere's a famine," 

A starv'd reptile cries ; 
" And his heart is rank poison," 

Another replies. 



ON A HENPECKED COUNTRY SQUIRE. 

As father Adam first was foolM, 
A case tliat's still too common. 

Here lies a man a woman rul'd — 
The Devil rul'd the woman ' 



EPIGRAM ON SAID OCCASION. 

O Death! hadst thou but spar'd his life, 
Whom we this day lament! 
We freely wad exchang'd the wife, 
And a* been weel content 



BURNS'S POEMS. 349 

Ev'n as he is, cauld in his g^aff, 

Tlie swap we yet will do*t ; 
Tak thou the Carlin's carcass aff, — 

Tliou'se get tlie saul o' boot! 



ANOTHER. 



One Queen Artemisa, as old stories tell, 

When depriv'd of her husband she loved 'so well, 

In respect for the love and affection he'd ehowV 

her, 
She reduc'd him to dust, and she drank up the pow- 
der. 

But Queen N*******, of a difTrent complexion, 
When cali'd on to order the fun'ral direction. 
Would have eat her dead lord, on a slender pre- 
tence, — 
Not to siiow her respect, but — to save tlie ex 
pense ! 



ON THE DEATH OF A LAP-DOG NAMED ECHO. 

In wood and wild, ye warbling throng, 

Your heavy loss deplore ; 
Now half extinct your pow'rs of song, 

Sweet Echo is no more ' 
30 



3r>0 KURNS'S rOKMS. 

Yo jarrinf^ scrcochiiifif thinrrs around, 
Scream 5'our discorilaiit joys ; 

Now half your din of tuneless sound 
Witli Echo silent lies. 



r 



IMPROMPTU ON MRS. 'S BIRTH-DAY, 

4th NOVEMBER, 171)3. 

Old Winter, witli his frosty beard, 
Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred : 
What have I done, of all the year, 
To hoar this hated doom severe ? 
My cheerless sons no pleasure know ; 
Nijrht's horrid car drags dreary, slow; 
My dismal months no joys are crowning, 
But epleeny English, hanging, drowning. 

Now, Jove, for once, be mighty civil ; 
To counterbalance all this evil, 
Give me and I've no more to say, 
Give me INIaria's natal day! 
That brilliant gift; will so enrich me, 
Spring, Summer, Autumn, cannot match me. 
'Tis done, says Jove; — so ends my story 
And Winter once rejoic'd in glory. 



?Ps*- 



BURNS'S POEMS. J,! I 



MONODV, 

ON A LADl KAIMI.n KOR IIKIl CAPRICE. 

IIow cold is that bogorn which folly onco fir'tl 
How pale ia that check where the rouge atcly 
plislonM ! 

IIow silent that toiif^ue which the ochoos oft tirM ! 
How dull is that car which to flalt'ry so listeii'd! 

If sorrow and anj^uish their exit await, 

From fricndshij) and dearest allection removed; 

IIow doubly severer, Eliza, thy fate. 

Thou diest unwept, as thou lived'st unlov'd. 

Loves, Graces, and Virtues, I call not on you ; 

So shy, {rrave, and distant, ye shed not a tear. 
But come, all ye oflsjHin^ of Folly so true, 

And llow'rs let us cull for Eliza's cold bier. 

We*]] search thro' the garden for each silly flower, 
We'll roam thro' the forest for each idle weed ; 

But chiefly the nettle, so typical, shower. 

For none e'er approach'd her but ru'd the rash deed. 

We'll sculpture the marble, we'll measure the lay, 
Here Vanity strums on her idiot lyre; 

There l<een Indignation siiall dart on lier prey, 

Which spur/ling Contempt shall redeem from his ire, 



352 bur:!<s's toeus. 



THE EPITAPH. 

Here lies, now a proy ti) insulting neglect, 
What once was a butterfly, gay in life's beam , 

Want only of wisdom tloniod her respect, 
Want only of goodness denied lier esteem. 



ODE, 

■ACRED TO THK MKMOUY OK MUS. 



DwKM.KR in yon dnngeon dark. 
Hangman of creation! mark 
Who in widow-weeds appeai-s. 
Laden with nnhonorM years, 
Noosing with care a bursting purse, 
Baited witli many a deadly cui-se! 



View the wither'd beldam's fiicc ; 

Can thy keen inspection trace 

Aught of humanity's sweet, melting grace / 

Note that eye, 'tis rlieum o'erllows. 

Pity's flood tlicrc never rose. 



HUKNS'S POICM8. 353 

Sco thoHO IuuuIh, no'er strctch'd to save, 
IIiuhIh that look — hiii iiov(5r ^avo, 
K(!0[)L'r of Mmiiiiiuii'H mm cIkjnI, 
lio! there she goes, unpitied and unblcst ! 
yiio goos, but not to reahns of everlasting rest . 



AN'I'lSI'KoniK. 

PiAJNn'iiER of armies, lill thino eyes, 

(Awhile forbear, ye tott'ring fiends !) 

Scest tliou whose step unwilling hither bonds ? 

No fallen angel, hiirl'd from upper skies ; 

'Ti.s thy truHty (luoiidain mate, 

Dooin'd to HJian; thy li(!ry fato, 

She, tardy, liollward plies. 



i:P()i)i': 



Afiii are they of no more avail, 
Ten tiiousand glitt'ring jmunds a year? 
In other worlds can Mammon fail, 
Oamipotent aa he is here? 
O, bitter mock'ry of the pompous bier, 
Whihi down the wretched vital part is drivn ! 
The cave-lodg'd l»eggar, with a conacience clear, 
llxpires in rags, unknown, and goes to heav'n 
30* 



154 BURJVS'S PC EMS. 



THE HEN-PECKED HUSBAND. 

Cdrs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life, 
The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife, 
Who has no will but by her high permission, 
Who has not sixpence but in her possession; 
Who must to her his dear friend's secret tell. 
Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell. 
Were such the wife had fallen to my part, 
I'd break her spirit, or I'd break her heart ; 
I'd charm her with the magic of a switch, 
I'd kiss her maids, and kick the perverse b — lu 



ELEGY ON THE YEAR 1788 

For lords or kings I dinna mourn, 

E'en let them die — for that they're born ! 

But, oh! prodigious to reflect, 

A Towmont, sirs, is gane to wreck! 

O Eighty-eight! in thy sma' spsce 

What dire events hae taken place! 

Of what enjoyment thou hast reft us ! 

In what a pickle thou hast left us ! 

The Spanish empire's tint a head. 
An' my auld teethless Bawtie's dead; 



BURNS S POEMS. 355 

The toolzie's teugh 'tween Pitt and Fox, 

An' our guid wife's wee birdy-cocks ; 

The ane is game, a bluidy devil, 

But to the hen-birds unco civil; 

The tither's dour, has nae sic breedin', 

But better stuff ne'er claw'd a midden ! 

Ye ministers, come, mount the pulpit! 
An' cry till ye be hoarse an' rupit; 
For Eighty-eight, he wish'd you weel, 
An' gied you a' baith gear an meal : 
E'en monie a plack, an' monie a peck, 
Ye ken yoursels, for little feck! 

Ye bonie lasses, dight your een, 
For some o' you hae tint a frien' ; 
In Eighty-eight, ye ken, was taen 
What ye'll ne'er hae to gie again ! 

Observe the very nowt an' sheep, 
How dowff an' dowie now they creep ; 
Nay, ev'n the yirth itsel' does cry. 
For Embro' wells are grutten dry. 

O Eighty-nine ! thou's but a bairn. 
An' no owre auld, I hope, to learn ! 
Thou beardless boy, I pray tak care. 
Thou now has got thy daddy's chair, 
Nae hand-cuff 'd, muzzl'd, half-shackl'd regeil^ 
But, like himself, a full, free agent: 
Be sure ye follow out the plan 
Nae waur than he did, honest man' 
As muckle better as you can. 
January 1, 1789. 



356 BURNS'S POEMS. 



TAM SAMSON'S* ELEGY. 

All honest man's the noblest work of God. 

POPK. 

Has auld K seen the Deil? 

Or great M f thrawn his heel ? 

Or R 1 again grown weel, 

To preach an' read? 
"Na, waur than a'!" cries like a chiel, 

Tarn Samson's dead ! 

K lang may grunt an' grane, 

An' sigh, an' sab, an' greet her lane, 

An' deed her bairns, man, wife, an' wean, 

In mourning weed ; 
To death she's dearly paid the kaue : 

Tam Samson's dead ! 

The bretliren of tlie mystic level, 
May hing their head in wofu' bevel. 
While by tlie nose the tears will revel, 

Like onie bead ; 
Death's gien the lodge an unco devel : 

Tam Samson's dead! 



* When this worthy old sportsman went ont last muir-fow] season, ha 
supposed it was to be, in Ossian's phrase, •' the last of his fields ; " ajid 
expressed an ardent wish to die and be buried in Uie muirs. On tliia 
hint, the author composed his Elegy and Epitaph. 

t A certain preacher, a great favorite with the million. Vide the Or- 
dination, stanza ii. 

t Another preacher, an equal favorite with the few, who was at thai 
time ailuig. For him, see also the Ordination, stanza ix. 



RirUiNS S I'OKINTS. 357 

Wlior. Vinter miiflles up his cloak, 
And binds tlio mire up like a rock ; 
Wlien to the loug^lis the curlers flock, 

Wi' ^Iccsonio speed, 
Wha will they station at the cock? 

Tatn Samson's dead ! 

JIc was the king- o' a' the core, 
To guard, or draw, or wick a bore, 
Or up the rink like Jehu roar. 

In time of need ; 
But now he la^s on death's hog-score. 

Tarn Samson's dead ! 

Now safe the stately sawmont sail, 
And trouts bcdropp'd wi' crimson hail. 
And eels well kenn'd for souplc tail. 

And geds for greed. 
Since dark in Deatli'a fish-creel we wail 

Tam Samson dead ! 

Rejoice, ye birring paitricks a'; 

Ye cootie muircocks, crousely craw , 

Ye maukins, cock your fud fu' braw, 

Withouten dread ; 
Your mortal fae is now awa' : 

Tam Samson's dead ! 



That wofu' morn be ever mourn'd, 
Saw him in shootin' graith adorn'd, 
Wiiile pointers round impatient burn'd, 

Frae couples freed ; 
But, ocli ! he gaed, and ne'er returned » 

Tam Samson's dead ! 



'i58 BURNS'S POEMS. 

In vain auld age his body batters ; 

In vain the gout his ancles fetters ! 

In vain the burns come down like water* 

An acre braid ! 
Now every aukl wife, greetin, clatters, 

Tarn Samson's dead ! 

Owre many a weary hag he limpit, 
An' ay the tithcr shot lie thumpit, 
Till coward Death behind him jumpit, 

Wi' deadly fcide ; 
Now he proclaims, wi' tout o' trumpet, 

Tam Samson's dead ! 

When at his heart he felt the dagger 
He reel'd his wonted bottle-swagger. 
But yet he drew the mortal trigger 

Wi' weel-aim'd deed ; 
" L — d, five ! " he cried, an' owre did stagger i 

Tam Samson's dead ! 

Ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brither ; 
Ilk sportsman youth bemoan'd a father ; 
Yon auld gray stane, amang the heather, 

Marks out his head, 
Whare Burns has wrote, in rhyming blether, 

Tam Samson's dead ! 

There low he lies, in lasting rest; 
Perhaps upon his mould'ring breast 
Some spitefu' niuirfowl bigs her nest 

To hatch an breed 
Alas ! nae mair he'd them molest ! 

Tam Samson's dead ' 



BURxNS's POF.MS. STi^ 

When AujTust winds the heather wave, 
And sportsmen wander by yon g^rave, 
Three volleys let his meni'ry crave 

O' pouther an' lead ; 
Till Echo answer frae her cave, 

Tani Samson's dead ! 

flenv'n rest his saul, where'er he be! 
Is the wish o' monie mae than me: 
He iiad twa faults, or may be three, 

Yet what remcad ? 
Ae social honest man want we ; 

Tam Samson's dead! 



THE EPITAPH. 

Tam Samson's wcel-born clay here lies; 

Ye canting zealots spare him! 
If honest worth in heaven rise, 

Ye'U men^ or ye won near him. 



360 BURNS'S F0EM9. 



PER CONTRA, 

Go, Fame, and canter like a filly 

Thro' a' the streets an' neuks o' Killie;* 

Tell ev'ry social, honest billie 

To cease his grievin', 
For yet, unskaith'd by death's g\cg gullie, 

Tarn Samson's livin'. 



ELEGY ON CAPTAIN MATTHEW HENDERSON 

A GENTLEMAN WHO HELD THE PATENT FOR HIS HONOR 
IMMEDIATELY FROM ALMIGHTY GOD. 

But now his radiant course is run, 
For Miitlhew's course w;is brigln ; 

His soul was like the glorious sun, 
A matchless, heavenly light! 

O Death ! thou tyrant fell and bloody ! 
The muckle devil wi' a woodie 
Haurl thee hame to his black smiddie, 

O'er hurcheon hides. 
And like stock-fis;! come o'er his studdie 

Wi' tliy auld sides! 

• Kilmarnock. 



BURNS'S POKMS. 361 

He's gane, lie's j^ane! he's frae us torn, 

The ae best fellow e'er was born! 

Thee, Matthew, Nature's self shall mourn, 

By wood and wild, 
Where, haply. Pity strays forlorn, 

Frae man exil'd. 

Ye hills, near neebors o' the starns. 
That proudly cock your cresting- cairns ! 
Ye cliffs, tiic haunts of sailiufir yearns. 

Where Echo slumbers! 
Come, join, ye Nature's sturdiest bairns, 

My wailing numbers I 

Mourn ilka grove the cushat kens ! 
Ye haz'lly shaws and briery dens! 
Ye burnies, wimplin' down your glens, 

Wi' toddlin' din, 
()r foaming Strang, wi' hasty stens, 

Frae lin to lin. 

Mourn, little harebells o'er the lee; 
Ye stately foxgloves fair to see; 
Ye woodbines lianging bonilie. 

In scented bow'rs ; 
Ye roses on your thorny tree, 

The first o' flow'rs 



At dawn, when ev'ry glassy blade 

Droops with a diamond at his head, 

At ev'n, when beans their fragrance shed 

I' the rustling gale, 
Ye maukins whiddin thro' the glade, 

Come, join my wail, 
31 



362 BURivs's poKivrs. 

Mourn, ye wee song-sters o' the wood ; 
Ye g-rouse that crap the heather bud; 
Ye curlews calling thro' a chid ; 

Ye whistling plover; 
And mourn, ye Avhirring paitrick biK>}l\ 

He's gane for ever: 

Mourn, sooty coots, and speckled t/z/is, 
Ye fisher herons watching eels ! 
Ye duck and drake, wi' airy wheels, 

Circling the lake; 
Ye bitterns, till the quagmire reels, 

Rair for his sake ! 

Mourn, clam'ring craiks, at close o' d' 
'Mang fields o' flow'ring clover gay ; 
And when ye wing your annual way 

Frae our cauld shore, 
Tell thae far warlds, wha lies in clfcjr 

Wham we deplore. 

Ye houlets, frae your ivy bow'r. 

In some auld tree, or eldritch tow'r. 

What time the moon, wi' silent gr >Vr 

Sets up her horn. 
Wail thro' the dreary midnight h«»if, 

Till waukrife morn ! 



O rivers, forests, hills, and plains! 
Oft have ye heard my canty strains : 
But now, what else for me remains 

But tales of wo ? 
And frae my een the drapping rains 

Maun ever flow. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 3G3 

Mourn Spring, thou darling of the year, 
Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear; 
Thou, Simmer, while each corny spear 

Shoots up its head, 
Thy gay, green, flow'ry tresses shear, 

For him that's dead! 

Thou, Autumn, wi' thy yellow hair, 
In grief thy sallow mantle tear ! 
Thou, Winter, hurling thro' the air 

The roaring blast. 
Wide o'er the naked world declare 

The worth we've lost. 

Mourn him, thou Sun, great source of light ' 
Mourn, Empress of the silent night! 
And you, ye twinkling starries bright. 

My Matthew mourn! 
For thro' your orbs he's taen his flight, 

Ne'er to return. 

O Henderson! the man! the brother! 
And art thou gone, and gone for ever? 
And hast thou cross'd that unknown river 

Life's dreary bound ? 
Like thee, where shall I find another. 

The warld around ? 



Go to your sculptur'd tombs, ye great, 
In a' the tinsel trash o' state! 
But by thy honest turf I'll wait, 

Thou man of worth ! 
And weep the ae best fellow's fate 

E'er lay in earth. 



364 



ETTRNS'S POEMS. 



THE EriTAPH. 

Stop, passenger, my story's briefj 
And truth I shall relate, man ; 

I tell na common tale o' grief, 
For Matthew was a great man 

If thou uncommon merit hast. 

Yet spurn'd at Fortune's door, man 

A look of pity hither cast. 

For Matthew was a poor man. 

If4hou a nobler sodger art, 

That passest by this grave, man, 

There moulders here a gallant heart, 
For Matthew was a brave man. 

If thou on men, their works and ways, 
Canst throw uncommon light, man ; 

Here lies wha weel had won thy praise, 
For Matthew was a bright man. 

If thou at friendship's sacred ca' 
Wad life itself resign, man ; 

Thy sympathetic tear maun fa', 
For Matthew was a kind man. 

If thou art staunch, without a stain, 
Like the unchanging blue, man! 

This was a kinsman o' thy ain. 
For Matthew was a true man. 



BURISS'S POEBIS. 365 

If thou hast wit, and fun, ana fire, 
And ne'er guid wine did fear, man; 

This was tliy billie, dam, and sire 
For Matthew was a queer man. 

If onie whiggish, whingin sot, 

To blame poor Matthew dare, man ; 

May dool and sorrow be his lot, 
For Matthew was a rare man 



ON A SCOTCH BARD, 

GONE TO THE WEST INDIES, 

A' YE wha live by soups o' drink, 
A' ye wha live by crambo-clink, 
A' ye wha live, and never think, 

Come mourn wi' me! 
Our billie's gien us a' the jink, 

An' owre the sea. 

Lament him, a' ye rantin' core, 
Wha dearly like a random splore, 
Nae mair he'll join the merry roar, 

In social key; 
For now he's taen anither shore, 

An' owre the sea. 

The bonie lasses weel may wiss him, 
And in their dear petitions place him 
31* 



■^06 BUKIVS'S POEMS. 

The widows, wives, an' a' may bless him, 

Wi' tcarfu' e'e ; 
For weel I wat they'll sairly miss him 

That's owre the sea. 

O Fortune ! they hae room to grumble ! 
Hadst thou taen aff some drowsy bummle, 
Wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble, 

'Twad been nae plea; 
But he was gleg as onie wumble, 

That's owre the sea. 

Auld, cantie Kyle may weepers wear, 
An' stain them wi' the saut, sunt tear; 
'Twill make her poor auld heart, I fear, 

In flinders flee; 
lie was her laureate monie a year, 

That's owre the sea. 

lie saw misf(irtune's cauld nor-wcst 
Lang must'ring up a bitter blast; 
A jillet brak his heart at last, 

111 may she be ! 
So, took a birth afore the mast, 

An' owre the sea. 

To tremble under Fortune's cummock, 
On scarce a belly-fu' o' drummock, 
Wi' his proud, independent stomach, 

Could ill agree ; 
So, row't his hurdies in a hammock, 

An' owre the sea. 

He ne'er was gien to great misguiding, 
Yet coin his pouches wan na bide in ; 



BURNS'S POEMS. 3G7 

\Vi' him it ne'er was under hxling 

lie dealt it free: 
Tlie Muse was a' tiuit he took pride in, 

That's owre tlie sea. 

Jamaica hodies, use him weel, 
An' hap hitii in a cozie biel : 
Ye'll find him ay a dainty chiel, 

An' fou o' glee ; 
He wad na wrang-'d the vera Deil, 

Tliat's owre the sea. 

Fareweel, my rhyme-composing billie ! 
Your native soil was right ill-willie, 
But may ye flourish like a lily, 

Now bonilie ! 
I'll toast ye in my hindmost gillio, 

Tho' o'er the sea. 



ON PASTORAL POETRY. 

Hail, Poesie ! thou nymph reserv'd ! 

In chase o' thee, what crowds hae swervM 

Frae common sense, or sunk enerv'd 

'Mang heaps o' clavers; 
And och! o'er aft thy joes hae starv'd, 

'Mid a' thy favors! 

Say, Lassie, why thy train amang, 
While loud the trump's heroic clang 



3()8 BURNS'S POEMS 

Ano sock or buskin skelp alang 

To death or marriage ; 

Scarce ane has tried the shepherd-sang 
But wi' miscarriage ? 

In Homer's craft Jock Milton thrives , 
Eschylus' pen Will Shakspeare drives; 
Wee Pope, the knurlin till him rives 

Horatian fame : 
In thy sweet sang, Barbauld, survives 

Ev'n Sappho's flame. 

But thee, Theocritus ! wha matches ? 
They're no herd's ballats, Maro's catches: 
Squire Pope but busks his skinlin patches 

O' heathen tatters : 
I pass by hunders, nameless wretches, 

That ape their betters. 

In this braw age o' wit and lear, 
Will nane the Shepherd's whistle mair 
Blaw sweetly in its native air. 

And rural grace ; 
And wi' the far-fam'd Grecian, share 

A rival place? 

Yes ! there is ane, a Scottish callan ! 
There's ane ; — come forrit, honest Allan ♦. 
Thou need na jouk behint the liallan, 

A chiel sae clever; 
The teeth o' Time may gnaw Tamtallan, 

But thou's for ever. ■ 

Thou paints auld Nature to the nines, 
I *hy sweet Caledonian lines ; 



BURNS'S POEMS. 3GJl 

Nae gowden stream thro' myrtles twines, 

Where Philomel, 
While nightly breezes sweep the vines, 

Her griefs will tell! 

In gowany glens thy t.rnie strays, 
Where bonie lasses bleach their claes; 
Or trots by haz'lly shaws and braes, 

Wi' hawthorns gray, 
Where blackbirds join the shepherd's lays, 

At close o' day. 

Thy rural loves are Nature's sel'; 
Nae bombast spates o' nonsense swell; 
Nae snap conceits, but that sweet spell 

O' witchin' love. 
That charm that can the strongest quell, 

The sternest move. 



PROLOGUE, 



SPOKEN AT THE THEATRE, ELLISLAVD, ON NEW-YEAl 
DAY EVENING. 

No song nor dance I bring from yon great city 
That queens it o'er our taste — the more's the pity ! 
Tho', by the by, abroad wliy will ycu roam ^ 
Good sense and taste are natives here at home. 
But not for panegyric I appear, 
I come to wish you all a good new-year' 



^70 



BURNS S POEMS. 



Old Father Time deputes me here before ye, 

Not for to preach, but tell his simple story : 

The sage, grave Ancient cough'd, and bade nie say 

" You're one year older this in^.portant day : " 

If wiser, too — he hinted some suggestion, 

But 'twould be rude, you know, to ask the question ; 

And, with a would-be roguish leer and wink. 

He bade me on you press this one word — " think ! " 

Ye spriglitly youths, quite flush with hope and spirit. 
Who think to storm the world by dint of merit. 
To you the Dotard has a deal to say, 
In his sly, dry, sententious, proverb Avay ! 
He bids you mind, amid your thoughtless rattle, 
That the first blow is ever half the battle: 
That, tho' some by the skirt may try to snatch him, 
Yet by the forelock is the hold to catch him : 
That, whether doing, suffering, or forbearing. 
You may do miracles by persevering. 

Last, tho' not least, in love, ye youthful fair. 
Angelic forms, high Heav'n's peculiar care! 
To you auld Bald-pate smoothes his wrink'cd brow. 
And humbly begs you'll mind the important —7J0ir. 
To crown your happiness he asks your leave^ 
And offers, bliss to give and to receive ! 

For our sincere, tho' hajdy weak endeavors, 
With grateful pride we own your many fivors • 
And howsoe'er our tongues may '11 reveal it, 
Believe our glowing bosoms tm'v Taa' ^t 



BURNS S POEMS. 371 



PROLOGUE, 

IPOKEN BY MR. WOODS, ON HIS BENEFIT NIGHT, MOM 
DAY, APRIL IC, 1787. 

When, by a gen'rous public's kind acclaim. 
That dearest meed is granted — honest fame ; 
When here your favor is the actor's lot. 
Nor ev'n the man in private life forgot; 
What breast so dead to heav'nly virtue's glow, 
But heaves impassion'd with the grateful throe ? 

Poor is the task to please a barb'rous throng, 
It needs no Siddon's powers in Southron's song ; 
For here an ancient nation, fam'd afar 
For genius, learning high, as great in war ! 
Hail, Caledonia ! name for ever dear ! 
Before whose sons I'm honor'd to appear! 
Where ev'ry science, ev'ry nobler art. 
That can inform the mind, or mend the heart. 
Is known ; as grateful nations ofl have found. 
Far as the rude barbarian marks the bound. 
Philosophy, no idle pendant dream. 
Here holds her search by heav'n-taught reason's bean* 
Here History paints, with elegance and force, 
The tide of Empire's fluctuating course ; 
Here Dougxas forms wild Shakspeare into plan, 
And Harley* rouses all the god in man. 



The Man of Feeling, wrilteu by Mr. M'Keiizie. 



872 BURNS'S POEMS. 

When well-forrn'd taste and sparkling- wit unite, 
With manly lore, or female beauty bright, 
(Beauty, where faultless symmetry and grace 
Can only charm us in tlie second place,) 
Witness, my heart, how oft with panting fear, 
As on this night, I've met these judges here ! 
But still the hope Experience taught to live, 
Equal to judge — you're candid to forgive. 
No hundred-headed Riot here we meet. 
With decency and law beneath his feet; 
Nor Insolence assumes fair Freedom's name; 
Like Caledonians, you applaud or blame. 

O Thou, dread Power ! whose empire-giving hand 
Has oft been stretch'd to shield the honor'd land! 
Strong may she glow with all her ancient fire ; 
May ev'ry son be worthy of his sire ; 
Firm may she rise, with generous disdain, 
At Tyranny's or direr Pleasure's chain ; 
Still self-dependent in her native shore. 
Bold may she brave ffrim Danger's loudest roar, 
Till Fate the curtain rtrou on worlds to be no more, 



BUR.NS'S POEMS. 37S 



THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN, 

^N OCCASIONAL ADDRESS, SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLK 
ON HER BENEFIT NIGHT. 

While Europe's eye is fix'd on niif^^hty things, 
The fate of empires, and the fall of kings ; 
While quacks of state must each produce his plaiv 
And even children lisp the Rights of Man ; 
Amid this mighty fuss, just let me mention, 
The Rights of Woman merit some attention. 

First, in the sexes' intermix'd connection, 
One sacred right of Woman is protection. 
The tender flower that lifts its head, elate, 
Helpless must fall before the blast of fate, 
Sunk on the earth, dcfac'd, its lovely form, 
Unless your shelter ward th' impending storm. 

Our second Right — but needless here is caution 
To keep that right inviolate's the fashion; 
Each man of sense has it so full before him, 
He'd die before he'd wrong it — 'tis dtcorum. 
There was, indeed, in far less polish'd days, 
A time when rough, rude man had naughty ways , 
Would swagger, swear, get drunk, kick up a riot, 
Nay, even thus invade a lady's quiet ! 
Now, thank our stars ! those Gothic times are fled 
Now, well-bred men — and you are all well-bred -^ 
Most justly think (and we are much the gainers' 
Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners. 
32 



374 BURNS'S POEMS. 

For Right the third, our last, our best, our dearest, 
That right to flutt'ring female hearts the nearest, 
Which ev'n the Rights of Kings, in low prostration, 
Most humbly own — 'tis dear, dear admindion ! 
In that blest sphere alone we live and move, 
There taste that life of life, — immortal love ! 
Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, fits, flirtations, airs, 
'Gainst such a host what flinty savage dares ? 
When awful beauty joins with all her charms, 
Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms? 

But truce with kings, and truce with constitutions, 
With bloody armaments and revolutions ; 
Let majesty your first attention summon. 
Ah ca Ira! the Majesty of Woman! 



ADDRESS, 



SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE, ON HER BENEFIT NIGHT 
DECEMBER 4, 1795, AT THE THEATRE, DUMFRIES. 

Still anxious to secure your partial favor. 
And not less anxious sure this night than ever, 
A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter, 
'Twould vamp my bill, said I, if nothing better ; 
So, sought a Poet, roosted near the skies. 
Told him I came to feast my curious eyes ; 
Said, nothing like his works was ever printed ; 
And last my Prologue busuiess slily iiinted. 
" Ma'am, let me tell you," quoth my man of rhymes^ 
"I know your bent — these are no laughing timea 



BURNS S POEMS. 375 

Can you — but, Miss, I owr. I have my fears, 
Dissolve in pause — and sentimental tears — 
With laden sio^hs, and solemn-rounded sentence, 
Rouse from his sluggish slumbers, foil Repentance? 
Paint Vengeance as he takes his horrid staud 
Waving on high the desolating brand, 
Calling the storms to bear him o'er a guilty land'*" 

I could no more - askance the creature eyeing, 
" D'ye think," said I, " this face was made for crying? 
I'll laugh, that's poz ; nay more, the world shall know it 
And so, your servant ! gloomy master Poet ! " 

Firm as my creed, sn-, 'tis my fix'd belief, 
That Misery's another word for Grief; 
I also think — so may I be a bride! 
That so much laughter's so much life enjoy'd. 

Thou man of crazy care, and ceaseless sigh, 
Still under bleak Misfortune's blasting eye ; 
Doom'd to that sorest task of man alive — 
To make three guineas do the work of five ; 
Laugh in Misfortune's face — the beldam witch: 
Say, you'll be merry, tho' you can't be rich. 

Thou other man of care, the wretch in love. 
Who long with jiltish arts and airs hast strove 
Who, as the boughs all temptingly project, 
Measur'st, in desp'rate thought, a rope — thy neck; 
Or, where the beetling cliff o'erhangs the deep, 
Peerest to meditate the healing leap ; 
Would'st thou be cur'd, thou silly, moping elf? 
Laugh at her follies — laugh e'en at thyself 



376 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Learn to despise those frowns, now so terrific, 
And love a kinder — that's your grand specific. 

To sum up all, be merry, I advise ; 
And as we're merry, may we still be wise. 



FRAGMENT, 

1^:SCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HO?(. C. J. FOX. 

How wisdom and folly meet, mix, and unite, 
How virtue and vice blend their black and their white^ 
How Genius, th' illustrious fatlior of fiction, 
Confounds rule and law, reconciles contradiction — 
I sing; If these mortals, the critics, should bustle, 
I care not, not I ! let the critics go whistle. 

But now for a patron, whose name and whose glory 
At once may illustrate and honor my story. 

Thou, first of our orators, first of our wits ; 
Yet whose parts and acquirements seem mere lucky 

hits ; 
With knowledge so vast, and with judgment so strong 
No man with the half of 'em e'er went far %vrong; 
With passions so })otent, and fancies so bright. 
No man with the half of 'em e'er went quite right ; 
A sorry, poor, misbegot son of the Muses, 
For using thy name offers fifty excuse* 



BUKNS'S I'OKMS. 377 

Goo'l L-'d, vhat ia man? for simple as he looks, 
Do but try to develop his hooks and his crooks, 
With his depths and his shallows, his good and his 

evil, 
A 1 in all, he's a problem must puzzle the devil 

On his one ruling- passion Sir Pope hugely labors. 
That, like th' old Hebrew walking-iHick, cats up its 

neighbors ; 
Mankind are his show-box — a frionii, -svould you know 

him ? 
Pull the string — ruling passion the piviure will show 

him. 
What pity, in rearing so beauteous a B^stein, 
One trifling particular, truth, should hrtvT* miss'd him ' 
For, spite of his fine theoretic positions. 
Mankind is a science defies definitions ! 

Some sort all our qualities, each to its tribe, 
And think human nature they truly describe: 
Have you found this or t'other r' there's more in the 

wind, 
As by one drunken fellow his comrades you'll find. 
But such is the flaw, or the depth of the plan. 
In the make of that wonderful creature, call'd Man, 
No two virtues, whatever relation they claim. 
Nor even two different shades of the same, 
Tliough like as was ever twin brother to brother, 
Possessing the one shall imply you've the other 
32* 



378 BURNS'S POEMS 



INSCRIPTION 

FOR AN ALTAR TO INDEPENDENCE, AT KERUOUOHTIlt 
THE SEAT OF MR. HERON, AVRITTEN IN SUMMER, 1795. 

Tiiou of an independent mind, 

Witli soul resolv'd, with soul resign'd ; 

Prepar'd FowVs proudest frown to brave, 

Who wilt not be, nor have a slave ; 

Virtue alone who dost revere. 

Thy own reproach alone dost fear, — 

Approach this shrine, and worship here 



ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH 



Edina! Scotia's darling seat! 

All hail thy palaces and tow'rs. 
Where once, beneath a monarch's feet, 

Sat legislation's sov'reign pow'rs ! 
From marking wildly-scatter'd flow'rs. 

As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, 
And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours, 

I shelter in thy lionor'd shade. 



BURNS*S POEMS. 379 



Here, Wealth still swells the golden tide, 

As busy Trade his labors plies ; 
There, Arcliitccture's noble pride 

Bids elegance and splendor rise; 
Here, Justice, from her native skies. 

High wields her balance and her rod 
There, Learning, with his eagle eyes, 

Seeks Science in her coy abode. 



Thy sons, Edina, social, kind, 

With open arms the stranger hail ! 
Their views enlarg'd, their lib'ral mind 

Above the narrow rural vale ; 
Attentive still to Sorrow's wail. 

Or modest Merit's silent claim ; 
And never may their sources fail ! 

And never Envy blot their name. 

IV. 

Thy daugliters bright thy walks adorn 

Gay as the gilded summer sky. 
Sweet as the dewy, milk-white thorn, 

Dear as the raptur'd thrill of joy ! 
Fair B strikes the adoring eye ! 

Heav'n's beauties on my fancy shine, 
I see the Sire of love onjiigh, 

And own his Avork inueed divine ! 



There, watching high the least alarms. 
Thy rough, rude fortress gleams afar; 



380 BURNS S rOEMS. 

Like some bold vet'ran, jrray in arms, 
And inark'd with many a seamy scar; 

The pond'rous wall and massy bar, 
Grim-rising o'er tiie rugged rock, 

Have ofl withstood assailing war, 
And ofl repcU'd the invader's shock. 



With awe-struck thought, and pitying tears, 

I view that noble, stately dome, 
Where Scotia's kings, of other years, 

Fam'd heroes ! had their royal home : 
Alas ! how chang'd the times to come ; 

Their royal name low in the dust! 
Their hapless race wild-wand'ring roam ! 

Tho' rigid law cries out, 'Twas just. 



Wild beats my heart to trace your steps, 

Whose ancestors, in days of yore. 
Thro' hostile ranks, and ruin'd gaps. 

Old Scotia's bloody lion bore : 
Ev'n I, who sing in rustic lore, 

Ilaply my sires have left their shed, 
And fic'd grim Danger's loudest roar. 

Bold following where your fathers led ! 



Edina ! Scotia's darling seat ! 

All hail thy palaces and tow'rs. 
Where, once beneath a monarch's feet, 

Sat legislation's sov'reign pow'rs! 



ISURNS S POEMS. 38| 

Prom marking- wildly-scatter'd flow'rs, 
As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, 

And singin<r, lone, the hngf'ring houra, 
1 shelter in thy iionor'd shana. 



BOOK V. 

SONGS AJSB BALLADS. 

A VISION. 

As I stood on yon roofless tower, 

Where the wa'-flower scents the dewy air, 
Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower, 

And tells the niidnig-ht moon her care : 

The winds were laid, the air was still, 
The stars they shot along the sky; 

The fox was howling on the hill, 
And the distant-echoing glens reply. 

The stream, adown its hazelly path. 
Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's, 

Hasting to join the sweeping Nith, 
Wliase distant roaring swells and fii's. 

Tne cauld blue north was streaming forth 
Her lights, wi' hissing, eerie din ; 

Athart the lift they start and shift, 
Like Fortune's favors, tint as win. 

By heedless chance I turn'd my eyes, 
And by the moonbeam, shook, to see 



BLANS'S FOKMS 383 

A stern and stalwart ghaist arise, 
Attir'd as minstrels wont to be. 

Had I statue boon o' stano, 

His darin' look had daunted me : 
And on his bonnet grav'd was plain, 

The sacred posy — Libertie ! 

And frae his harp sic strains did flow 
Might rous'd the slumbering dead to hear; 

But, oh ! it was. a tale of wo, 
As ever met a Briton's ear. 

He sang wi' joy his former day. 

He, weeping, wail'd iiis latter times; 

But what he said it was nae pfay, 
I winna ventur't in my rhymes.* 



* The scenery, so fiiicly descrihcd in tliis poem, is taken from niiture. 
The poet is suppo.';ecl to he riiusin<;, l)y nijjlit, on the l)ank« oi the Clu- 
den, near the ruins of Lineluden Aliliey, of whieli some account is siven 
in Pennant's Tour and Grose's Aniiciuilies. It is to lie regretted that lio 
guppresscd tlie song of Lil)ertie. From ifie resources of his genius, and 
the grandeur and solemnity of »>"« nreporation, sometlnng nn^ht liava 
been anticipated, equal, if not superior, to itie jl'''ircs« of Hriice to liia 
Army, to the Song of Death, or to the fervid and noble dcstcnpMon o/ 
»he Dying Soldier in the Field of Baltic. 



384 BURNS'S POEMS. 



BANNOCK BURN. 

ROBERT BRDCe's ADDRESS TO HIS ARMf 

Scots, wlia hae wi' Wallace blod, 
Scots, wham Bruce has afien led ; 
Welcome to your gory bed. 
Or to glorious victorie. 

Now's the day, and now's the hour; 
See the front of battle lower; 
See approach proud Edward's power — 
Edward ! chains ! and slaverie ! 

Wha will be a traitor knave ? 
Wha can till a coward's grave ? 
Wha sae base as be a slave? 

Traitor ! coward ! turn and flee ! 

Wha for Scotland's king and law 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw, 
Freeman stand, or freeman fa*? 
Caledonian ! on wi' me ! 

By oppression's woes and pains ! 
By your sons in servile chains ! 
We will drain our dearest veins, 

But they shall be — shall be free! 

Lay the proud usurpers low I 
Tyrants fall in every foe! 
Liberty's in every blow! 

Forward ! lei us do, or die .' 



IIURAS S POEMS. 385 



SONG OF DEATH. 

B. ENE — ^ Field of Battle. Time of the day — Even- 
in^. The wounded and dyin<i; of the victorious army 
are supposed to join in the foUoiving Song. 

Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye 
skies, 

Now gay with the bright setting sun ; 
Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties 

Our race of existence is run ! 

Thou grim king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe, 

Go, frighten the coward and slave ; 
Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know, 

No terrors hast thou to the brave ! 

Thou strik'st the dull peasant — he sinks in the dark, 

Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name ; 
Thou strik'st the young hero — a glorious mark! 

lie falls in the blaze of his fame ! 

In the proud field of honor — our swords in our hand% 

Our king and our country to save — 
While Victory shines on life's last ebbing sands 

O! who wou'd not rest with the brave! 
33 



586 BURNS'S POEMS. 



IMITATION 

OF AN OLD JACOFMTK SONG. 

Bt yon castle wa\ at the closo of the day, 
I hoard a man sin«;, tliou'rh his hoad it was gray; 
And as he was sinning, the tears. fast down canio — 
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hanie. 

The cluirch is in ruins, the state is in jars; 
Delusions, oi)pressions, and murderous wars; 
W(^ dare na weel say't, but we ken wha's to blame— 
There'll never be i)eace till .lanue comes hame. 

My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword, 
And now I greet round tiicir green beds in tlieyerd; 
It brak the sweet heart o* my faitJifu' auld dame — 
Tliere'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. 

Now life is a burden that bows me down, 
Sin* I tint my bairns, and he tint iiis crov/n ; 
But till my last moment my words are the same — 
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. 



THE LASS OF INVERNESS. 

The lovely lass o' Inverness, 

Nao joy nor pleasure can she see; 

For e'en and morn she cries, AUib ! 
And ny the saut tear blin's iier e'o. 



lUiriNH H I'OKMS. 887 

DrumosHio tnoor, DruinosHio day, 

A wnofu' (l)iy it wm to mo; 
For tiKiro I loHt my father doar, 

My fiithor doar, and brothron throo. 

'J'lioir windiiiu- Hlioot tli(5 hliiidy day, 
Tlicir frnivoH tin? ^n)\viti<r ^rroori to hoo; 

And l»y tlioni lies tlio doan;Ht lud 
That ovor bluHt a woinmrH o'(» ! 

Now wao to tluM), thou ciik!! lord, 

A bhiidy man I trow thou bo ; 
For nionio a boart tbon bant mado Hnir, 

Tliat no'or did wron^f to tbino or tlieo. 



TIII'J ABSKNT WAIUIIOII. 

TuMc — " Lofran fVaUr:^ 

() Looan! Hwootly didHt tbon ^Mido, 
That day I was my Willio'ri brido ; 
And yoarH HinHyno havo o'or wh run, 
Lilco Lo«ran to tbo nirnmor hum. 
lint now tby (low'ry banks appiMir, 
Liko dnnnlio wImUm-, (birk and (h-oar ; 
While my doar bid mann faco bis faoi, 
Far, far Irao ok^ jind liOfrfin braes. 

Again the mony month o' May 
Has mado our hills and vaileyH (ray; 



BURNS'S POEMS. 

The birds rejoice in leafy bow'rs, 

The bees hum round the breathing- flow'rs ; 

Blithe Morninjr lifts his rosy eye, 

And Eveninj^'s tears are tears of joy ; 

My soul, deliglitless, a' surveys, 

While Willie's far frae Logan braes. 

Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush, 
Amang her nestlings sits tlie thrush ; 
Her fiiithfu' mate will share her toil, 
Or wi' his song her cares beguile ; 
But I, wi' my sweet nurslings here, 
Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer, 
Pass widow'd nights and joyless days, 
While Willie's far frae Logan braos. 

O, wae upon you, men o' state. 
That brethren rouse to deadly hate ! 
As ye make monie a fond heart mourn, 
Sae may it on your heads return! 
How can your flinty hearts enjoy 
The widow's tears, the orphan's cry ? 
But soon may peace bring happier days, 
And Willie, hame to Logan brass 



BURNS S POEMS. 



THE WARRIOR'S RETURN. 
Am — ''The Mill, Mill, O." 

When wild war's deadly blast was olawn. 

And geitle peace returning, 
Wi' monie a sweet babe fatherless, 

And monie a widow mourning: 

I left the lines and tented field, 
Where lang I'd been a lodger, 

My humble knapsack a' my wealth, 
A poor and honest sodger. 

A leal, light heart was in my breast, 
My hand unstain'd wi' plunder ; 

And for fair Scotia's hame again, 
I cheery on did wander. 

I thought upon the banks o' Coil, 

I thought upon my Nancy, 
I thought upon the witching smile 

That caught my youthful fancy. 

At length I reach'd the bonie glen. 

Where early life I sported ; 
I pass'd the mill and trystin' thorn, 

Where Nancy aft I courted. 

Wha spied I but my ain dear maid, 
Down by her mother's dwelling ! 

And turn'd me round to hide the flood 
That in my een was swelling. 
33* 



«J'JO BUUNS'S rOKMS. 

\Vi' nltorM voice, quoth T, sweet, lass, 
Swoot us yon luiwtliorn's blossom, 

O ! liappy, hai)py may he be. 
That's dcarost to Uiy bosom! 

]\Iy purse is lifiht, I've far to gang. 
And fain would be thy lodger; 

IVe serv'd my king and country lang 
Take i)ity on a sodgor. 

Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me, 
And lovelier was than ever; 

Quo' she, a sodgor ance I lo'cd. 
Forgot him shall I never. 

Our humble cot, and hamely fare. 

Ye freely shall partake it. 
That gallant badge, the dear cockade, 

Vo're welcome for the sake o't. 

She gaz'd — she reddenVl like a rose — ■ 

Syne pale like ony lily; 
She sank within my arms, and cried. 

Art thou my ain dear Willie ? 

By him who made yon sun and sky — 
By whom true love's regarded, 

I am the man ; and thus may still 
True lovers be rewurdod. 

Tlie wars are o'er, and Vm come hame, 
And fmd thee still true-hearted: 

Tho' poor in gear, we're ricii in love, 
And mair we'sc ne^er be parted. 



Quo' slio, my ijfr;ui(lHire left inc ffowd, 

A maileii pUuiisliM fairly ; 
And conn;, my lUilhful sodtrcr lad, 

ThoLi'rt wclcouio to it dearly ! 

For g-old the merchant plouj^hs the main, 
The furmer plouj^lis tiic manor- 

Hut glory i.s the sodijfcr'H [)rize, 
The Kod^^or's wealth is honor. 

The brave poor sodgor ne'er despise, 
Nor count him as a stranger; 

Remember, he's his country 'h stay 
Jn day and hour of danger. 



LORD GREGORY. 

O MiiiK, mirk Is this midnight hour, 

And loud the tempest's roar; 
A waefu' wanderer seeks thy towV — 

Lord Gregory, ope thy door. 

An exile frae her father's ha', 

And a' for loving thee ; 
At least some ;>//// on me show, 

If love it may na be. 

Lord (irogory, mind'st tliou not the grove. 

By bonie Irwine side, 
Where lirat I own'd that virgin-love 

I lang, lang had denied. 



392 BURNS S POKMS. 

HoAv afteii didst thou plodfjo and vow, 
Tliou wnf. tor ay bo luino ! 

And iny ibiul lioart, itsel' sue true, 
It ne'er mistrusted thine. 

Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory, 

And flinty is tliy breast : 
Thou dart of Heaven, that flashest by 

O wilt thou give me rest? 

Ye mustering tlninders from above. 

Your M'illing victim see ! 
But sj)are, and j)ar(U)n my fause hive, 

His wrauiTs to Heaven and me ! 



OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH! 

WITH ALTKRATIONS. 

Off, open the door, some pity show. 

Oh, open the door to me, oh ! 
Tlio' tliou hast boon false, Til ever prove true ; 

Oh, open the door to me oh ' 

Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek, 

But caulder thy love for me, oh! 
The frost that freezes the life at my heart, 

Is nought to my pains frae thee, oh ! 

The wan moon is sotting bcliind the white wave 
And time is seltinir with me, oh ' 



ItUKINs's I'OKMS. 31i3 

False friends, false love, farewell ! for iii:iir 
I'll ne'er trouble them nor thee, oh! 

yiie lias opciiM the door, she has open'd it wide ; 

8ho sees his i)ale corse on the plain, oh ! 
My true love ! she cried, and sank down by his side 

Never to rise a^ain, oh ! 



THE ENTREATY. 

Tune — " Ld nic in this cue, nif^fU.** 

O LASHiK, art thou slecj)infr yet? 
Or art thou wakin, I would wit ? 
For Love has bound me hand and foot, 
And I would fain be in, jo. 



O let me in this ae night, 

This ae, ae, ae night ; 
For pity's sake, this ae night, 

O rise and let me in, jo. 

Thou luiar'st the winter wind and woet, 

Nae star blinks thro' the driving sleet; 
Tak j)it.y on my weary feet. 

And shield me frac the rain, jo, 
O let, &LC, 



894 BURNS'S POEMS. 

The bitter blast that round me bla-irs, 
Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's ; 
The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause 
Of a' my grief and pain, jo. 
O let, &c. 



THE ANSWER. 

O TELD na me o' wind and rain, 
Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain! 
Gae back the gate ye cam again, 
I wirma let you in, jo. 



I tell you now this ae night, 

This ae, ae, ae night; 
And ance for a', this ae night, 

I winna let you in, jo 

The snelliest blast, at mirkest hours, 
That round tiie patliless wand'rer pours. 
Is nocht to what poor she endures 
That's trusted faithless man, jo. 
I tell, &c. 

The sweetest flower that deck'd the mead, 
Now trodden like t.e vilest weed ; 
Let simple maid the lesson read. 
The weird may be her ain, jo. 
' I tell, &c 



BURNS'S POEMS. 3I>5 

The bird that cham'd liis summer-day, 
Is now the cruel fowler's prey ; 
Let Avitless, trusting woman say 

How afl her fate's the same, jo. 
I tell, &c 



THE FORLORN LOVER. 

Tune — " Ld me in this ae nightJ 

Forlorn, my love, no comfort near, 
Far, far from thee, I wander here, 
Far, far from thee, the fate severe, 
At which 1 most repine, love. 



O wert thuu, love, but near mo. 
But near, near, near me ; 
How kindly thou wouldst cheer me, 
And mingle sighs with mine, love. 

Around me scowls a wint'ry sky. 
That blasts each bud of hope and joy. 
And shelter, shade, nor home have I, 
Save in tliose arms of thine, love. 
O wert, &c. 

Cold, altcr'd Friendship's cruel part, 

To poison Forttuio's rutliless dart — 

Let me not break tliy f;i,ithful heart, 

And say that fate is mine, love, 

O wert, &c. 



300 



BURNS S rOKM8. 

IJut (lioary tho' the luoinents lleet 
O lot ine tliink we yet shall meet 
Tlmt only my of solace sweet 

Can on thy Chloris shine, love, 
() wert, 6lc. 



THE DREARY NIGHT. 
TuNK — '' Cauld Kail in ^■H)a'dte)i.'" 

How long and dreary is tho night, 
When I am frae my dearie ! 

I restless lie frae e'en to morn, 
Though I were ne'er sao weary. 

CHORUS. 



•T" : 



For oil, hor lancly nights arc Ian 
And oh, her dreams are eerie ; 

And oh, her widow'd heart is sair, 
That's absent frae her dearie. 

When I think on tho lightsome days 
I spent wi' thee, my dearie ; 

And now what soas between us roar, 
How can I but bo eerie? 
For oh &c. 

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours; 

The joyless day, how dreary ! 
It was na sae ye glinted by, 

When I was wi' my dearie. 
For oh, &.C 



IHIRP^S'S rOEMS. 31/7 



POORTITII CAULD. 
TuNK — " / Imd a Horsed 

O pooRTiTH cauld, and restless love, 
To wreck my peace between ye ; 

Yet poortith a' I could forgive, 
An' twere na for my Jeany. 

cnoRUS. 

O why should Fate sic pleasure have 
Life's dearest bands untwining? 

Or why sac sweet a flower as Love, 
Depend on Fortune's shining ? 

This warld'a wealth, when I think on 
It's pride and a' the lave o't ; 

Fie, fie on silly coward man. 
That ho should be the slave o't 
O why, &c. 

Her ecn sao bonie blue betray 
How she repays my passion; 

But prudence is her o'erword ay, 
She talks of rank and fashion. 
O why &,c. 

O wha can prudence think upon, 

And sic a lassie by him ? 
O wha can prudence think upoa, 
And sae in love as I am ? 
O why, &c. 
34 



8y8 luniNs's i'(jr.Ms. 

How b.<\st. Uic humble cultiM-'u fufo' 
Ho wooa his simple doario ; 

Tlio fiillio hollos, woalth and state, 
Can never make them eerie. 
() why, ^:i% 



CLARINDA. 



C^i,.\iuM)A, mistress of my hoi:1, 

Tht* meiisiirM time is run! 
Tlie uiH>teh beneath the dn^iry \^o\e^ 

Se marks his l;U(>st sun. 

To what (lark eavi' of tVo/.(Mi niijht 

Shall poor iSylvander iiie ? 
l)ei)rivM of thee, his lil'e and light, 

'VUv SUM ol' all his joy. 

Wo part — but by these precious drops 

Tiiat fill thy lovely eyes! 
No other lijjfht shall jjuide my steps 

Till thy bri«;ht btNuus arise. 

8iie, the iair sim ot* all her sox, 
Has bU»st my «;lorious day; 

And shall a jj^limm'rinjjf planet fix v- 
My worshij) to its ray? 



BURNS'S I'OEMH. 30U 



ISABELLA. 

TvT<v.—^'jWC,no;or of lirro's hime^tt/^ 

Ravin(J vvindH iiround Iior blowiiif^, 
Yellow J(';ivcK tlio woo(ll;irwIn Htrowiiijr-- 
Hy !i, riv(T lioiirHuly roiiriii^, 
lH!il)t'|]ii HtruyM, (JcplorinfT — 
" Farewell, hours Unit lute did ninasuro 
SimHliiiH) diiyn of joy and pIniiHiiro; 
lliiil, tJiou frlof)iny ni;j^ht of Horrow, 
('hoerlcHH iii^^lit,, llmf, iiiiowH no morrow! 

"O'er the puHt too fondly wiind'rinij, 
On tliG hopoleHH future i)on<rrin{,' ; 
Chilly fjrief my life-blood freezes, 
Foil despair my fancy seizes. 
Life, thou soul of (;v'i-y blesHing, 
Load to mJH'ry iriost dlHtroHHinj^, 
O, how gladly I'd resi^^ni thee, 
And to dark oblivion join thee!** 



WANDERING WILLIPJ. 

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, 
Hero awa, there awa, baud away haine ; 

Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie, 

Tell me thou brin{,''st mo my Willie the flame. 



400 BUUNS'S rOKMS. 

Winter winds 1)Umv loud and cauld at our parting, 
Fears lor my Willie brouji^ht teare in iny e'o; 

Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie, 
The simmer to nature, my Willie to me! 

Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers, 
' How your dread howliug a lover alarms ! 
Wauken, ye broo/.es ; row <:jently, ye billows, 
And wall my dear laddie anoe mair to my arms 

l^ut oh! it* he's t'aithK>ss, and minds na his Nanie, 
Flow still between us, thou wide-roarin<>; main! 

May 1 never see it, may I never trow it, 

liut. dying-, believe tiiat my Willie's my nin ! 



TIIK PARTING KISS. 

Jockk.y's taen the partin<^ kiss. 
O'er tlio mountains he lias jxane ; 

And with him is a' my bliss : 

Nought but griefs witii me remain. 

Spare my luve, ye winds that blaw. 
Flashy sleets and beating' rain! 

Spare my luve, thou foatirry snaw, 
Drilling o'er the fro/.en plain ! 

When the shades of evening cre?p 
O'er the day's fair, gladsome e'e, 

Sound and safely may he sleep. 
Sweetly blithe his wauk'ning bo 



ISI.'IINS'S I'OKMK. 401 



He will tliinK on nor ho loves, 
Fondly ho'll ro|)oiit lior nfuno; 

For where'er he diKtant rov(!H, 
Jockey'a heart is slill at hanio. 



THE ROARING OCEAN. 
Tune — " Druimion duhhJ* 

MusiNo on the roaring ocean, 
Which divides my love and me ; 

Wearying Heav'n, in warm devotion. 
For ills weal, where'er he be. 

Hope and fear's alternate billow 
•Yielding lato to Nature's law ; 

Whisp'ring spirits, round my pillow- 
Talk of him that's far awa. 

Yo whom sorrow never woundca, 
Ye who never shod a tear, 

Care-untroubled, joy-surrounded, 
Gaudy day to you is dear. 

Gentle night ! do thou befriend me 
Downy sleep, the curtain draw ; 

Spirits kind, again attend me, 
Talk of him that's far awa , 



402 BURNS'S POEMS. 



FAIR ELIZA. 



A GAELIC AIR. 



Turn again, thou fiiir Eliza, 

Ae kinc blink, before we part, 
Rew on thy despairinor lover; 

Canst thou break his faithful heart? 
Turn again, thou fair Eliza ; 

If to love thy heart denies, 
For pity hide the cruel sentence 

Under friendship's kind disguise. 

Thee, dear maid, hae I offended ? 

Tiie offence is loving thee ! 
Canst thou wreck his peace for ever, 

Wha for thine would gladly die?. 
While the life beats in my bosom, 

Thou shall mix in ilka throe ; 
Turn again, thou lovely maiden, 

Ae sweet smile on me bestow. 

Not the bee upon the blossom, 

In the pride o' sinny noon ; 
Not the little sporting fairy, 

All beneath the simmer moon ; 
Not the poet, in the moment 

Fancy lightens on his e'e, 
Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture. 

That thy presence gies to me. 



BUaifS's POEMS. 40d 



ELIZA. 

Tune — " JVanq/^s to the Greemvocd,^ ifc. 

Farewell, thon stream that winding flowg 
Around Eliza's dwelling! 

nieiii'ry, spare the cruel throes 
VVitliin my bosom swelling. 

Condemn'd to drag a hopeless chain, 

And yet in secret languish, 
To feel a fire in ev'ry vein. 

Nor dare disclose my anguish. 

Love's veriest Avretch, unseen, unknown, 

I fain my griefs Avould cover ; 
The bursting sigh, th' unweeting groan, 

Betray the hapless lover. 

1 know thou doom'st me to despair. 
Nor wilt nor canst relieve me ; 

But oh, Eliza, hear one prayer, 
For pity's sake, forgive me. 

The music of thy voice I heard, 

Nor wist, while it cnslav'd me ; 
I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fearM, 

Till fears no more had sav'd me : 
Th' unwary sailor thus aghast, 

The wheeling torrent viewing; 
'Mid circling horrors, sinks at last 

In overwhelmin<r ruin. 



104 BURNS'S POEMS. 



THE BRAES O' BALLOCHMYLE. 

The Catrine woods were yellow seen, 
The flow'rs decayM on Catrine lea : 

Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green, 
But Nature sickenM on the e'e. 

Thro' faded groves Maria sang, 

Ilersel' in beauty's bloom the whylc. 

And ay tlie wild-wood echoes rang. 
Farewell the braes o' Ballochmyle. 

Low in your wint'ry beds, ye flowVs, 
Again ye'll flourish fresh and fair ; 

Ye birdies dumb, in with'ring bow'rs, 
Again ye'll charm the vocal air: 

But here, alas ! for me, nae mair 
Shall birdie charm, or flow'ret smile, 

Farewell the bonie banks of Ayr, 

Farewell, farewell! sweet Ballochmyle. 



GLOOMY DECEMBER. 

Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December, 
Ance mair I hail tliee, wi' sorrow and care ; 

Sad was the parting thou makes me remember, 
Parting wi' Nancy, oh ! ne'er to meet mair ! 



BURNS'S POEMS. 405 

Fond lovers' parting is SAveet, painful pleasure; 

Hope beaming- mild on the soft, parting hour; 
But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever! 

Is anguish unminglcd, and agony pure. 

Wild as the Winter now tearing the forest, 
Till the last loaf o' the Summer is flown, 

Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom, 
Since my last hope and last comfort is gone. 

Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December, 
Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; 

For sad was the parting thou makes me remember 
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet main 



DEPARTURE OF NANCY. 
Tune — " Oran-f^aoiiy 

Behold the hour, the boat arrive ; 

Thou goest, thou darling of my heart' 
Sever'd from thee, can I survive? 

But fate has will'd, and we must part 

I'll often greet this surging swell. 
Yon distant isle will often hail : 

" E'en here I took the last farewell ; 
There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail." 

/Vlong the solitary shore, 
While flitting sea-fowl round me cry, 



406 BURNS S POEMS 

Acrosjs the rolling, dashing roar, 
I'll westward turn my wistful eye* 

Happy, thou Indian grove, Til say, 

Where now my Nancy's path may be! 

While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray, 
O tell me, does she muse on me ? 



MY NANIE'S AW A. 

Tune — " There'll never be peace,''^ ^r. 

Now in her green mantle blithe Nature arrays, 
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes, 
While birds Avarble welcome in ilka green shaw ; 
But to me it's doliglitless — my Nanie's awa. 

The snaw-drap and primrose our woodlands adorn, 
And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn ; 
They pain my sad bosom so sweetly they blaw, 
They mind me o' Nanie — and Nanie's awa. 

Thou lav'rock that springs frae the dews of the lawn, 
The shepherd to warn o' the gray-breaking dawn, 
And thou mellow mavis that hails tlie night-fa'. 
Give over, for pity — my Nanie's awa. 

Come, Autunm, sae pensive, in yellow and gniy. 
And soothe me wi' tidings o' Nature's decay: 
The dark, dreary Winter, and wild-driving snaw 
Alane can deliglit me — now Nanie's awiu 



BUKNS'a POEMS. 407 



BANKS C* DOON. 

Yk bunks and braes o' bonic Doon 

How can ye bloom sac fresh and fair? 

How can ye chant, ye little birds, 
And I sae weary, fu' o' cure? 

Thon'lt break my heart, thou warbiinj,' bird, 
That wantons thro' the llow'rin^' thorn: 

Thou minds me o' departed joys, 
l)ei)artcd, never to return. 

Oft hac I rov'd my bonie Doon, 
To see the rose and woodbine twine ; 

And ilka bird sang o' its love, 
And fondly sae did I o' mine. 

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, 
Fu' sweet uj)on its thorny tree; 

And my fause lover stole my rose, 
But, ah! he left the thorn wi' me. 



THE DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 

Now SprinfT has clad the grrvo« in green, 
And strew'd the lea wi' flowers ; 

The flirrow'd waving corn 13 seen 
Rejoice in fostering showers: 



408 BUR]ys's POEMS. 

While ilka thing in nature join 

Their sorrows to forego, 
O why thus all alone are mine 

The weary steps of wo ! 

The trout within yon wimpling- burn 

Glides swift, a silver dart. 
And safe beneath the shady thorn, 

Defies the ang-ler's art : 
My life was ance that careless stream, 

That wanton trout was I ; 
But love, wi' unrelenting beam. 

Has scorch'd my fountains dry. 

The little flowret's peaceful lot, 

In yonder cliff that grows. 
Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot, 

Nae ruder visit knows, 
Was mine ; till love has o'er me past. 

And blighted a' my bloom ; 
And now, beneath the withering blast, 

My youth and joy consume. 

The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs, 

And climbs the early sky. 
Winnowing blithe her dewy wings. 

In morning's rosy eye ; 
As little reckt I sorrow's pow'r, 

Until tlie flow'ry snare 
O' witching love, in luckless hour, 

Made me the thrall o' care. 

O, had my fate been Greenland snowa, 
Or Afric's burning zone. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 409 

Wi' men and nature leagu'd my foes, 

So Pe^gy ne'er I'd known! 
The wretch Avhase doom is, " Hope nae mail,** 
- What tong-ue his woes can tell ? 
Within whase bosom, save despair, 

Nae kinder spirits dwell. 



CRAGIE-BURN. 
Tune — " Cragie-Burn WooiV 

Sweet fa's the eve on Cragie-Burn, 
And blithe awakes the morrow ; 

But a' the pride o' spring's return 
Can yield me noclit but sorrow. 

I see the flowers and spreading trees, 
I hear the wild birds singing ; 

But what a weary wight can please, 
And care his bosom wringing? 

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart. 

Yet dare na for your anger ; 
But secret love will break my heart. 

If I conceal it langer. 

If thou refuse to pity me, 

If thou shalt love anither, 
When yon green leaves fade frae the tree, 

Around my grave they'll wither. 
35 



410 BURNS'S POEMS 



THE CHEERLESS SOUL. 
Tune — ^^Jockexfs Gray Brceks.^ 

Again rejoicing Nature sees 

Her robe assume its vernal hues ; 

Her leafy locks wave in the breeze, 
All freshly steep'd in morning dews. 

In vain to me the cowslips blaw, 
In vain to me the vi'lets spring ; 

In vain to me in glen or shaw, 
The mavis and the lintwhite sing. 

Tlie merry ploughboy cheers his team, 
Wi' joy the tentie seedsman staiks ; 

But life to me's a weary dream, 
A dream of ane that never wauks. 

The wanton coot the water skims, 
Amang the reeds the ducklings cry ; 

The stately swan majestic swims, 
And everything is blest but I. 

The sheep-herd steoks his faulding slap. 
And oAvre the moorland whistles shrill ; 

Wi' wild, unequal, waiid'ring step 
I meet him on the dewy hill. 

And when the lark, 'tween light and dark. 
Blithe waukens by the daisy's side, 



BURNS'S POEMS. 4li 

And mounts and sings on flittering- wings, 
A wo-worn ghaist, I hamcvvard glide. 

Come, Winter, with thine angry howl, 
And, raging, bend the naked tree , 

Tliy gloom will soothe my cheerless sou , 
When Nature all is sad like me! 



MARY MORISON. 
Tune — ''Bide ye ytV 

Mary, at thy window be. 

It is the wish'd, the trysted hour! 
Those smiles and glances let rie see, 

That make the miser's treasure poor ; 
How blithely wad I bide the stoure, 

A weary slave frae sun to sun ; 
Could I the rich reward secure, 

The lovely Mary Morison 

Yestreen, when to the trembling string. 
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', 

To thee my fancy took its wing, — 
I sat, but neither heard nor saw ! 

Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, 
And you the toast of a' the town, 

1 sigh'd, and said amang them a', 
" Ye are na Mary Morison." 



412 BURNS'S POEMS. 

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, 

Wha for thy sake would gladly die ? 
Or canst thou break that heart of his, 

Whase only fault is loving thee ? 
If love for love thou wilt na gie, 

A t least be pity to me shown : 
A thought ungentle canna be, 

The thought o' Mary Morison. 



FAIR JENNY. 
TuiXE — " Saw ye my father ? " 

Where are the joys that I've met in the morning, 
That danc'd to the lark's early song ? 

Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring. 
At evening, the wild woods among ? 

No more a-winding the course of yon river. 
And marking sweet flow'rets so fair; 

No more I trace the light footsteps of pleasure, 
But sorrow and sad sighing care. 

Is it that Summer's forsaken our valleys, 

And grim, sjrly Winter is near? 
No, no ! the bees humming round the gay roses, 

Proclaim it the pride of the year. 

Fain would I hide what I fear to discover, 
Yet long, long too well have I knowa 



BURiNS's POEMS. 41li 

All that has caused this wreck in my bosom, 
Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone. 

Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal, 

Nor hope dare a comfort bestow: 
Come then, enamor'd and fond of my anguish, 

Enjoyment I'll seek in my wo. 



ADDRESS TO THE WOOD-LARK. 

Tune — " WTiereUl bonie Ann lie^'* Or, "Loch Eroch- 

side." 

O STAT, sweet-warbling wood-lark, stay. 
Nor quit for me the trembling spray; 
A hapless lover courts thy lay. 

Thy soothing, fond complaining. 

Again, again that tender part, 
That I may catch thy melting art ; 
For surely that wad touch her heart, 
Wha kills me wi' disdaining. 

Say, was thy little mate unkind. 
And heard thee as the careless wind? 
Oh, nocht but love and sorrow join'd. 
Sic notes o' wo could wauken. 

Thou tells of never-ending care ; 
O' speechless grief and dark despair; 
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair 
Or my poor heart is broken ' 
35* 



414 BURNS'S POEMS. 



FRAGMENT, 

IN witherspoon's collection of scot's songs. 

Air — " Hughie Oraham.^^ 

O WERE my love yon lilac fair, 
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring ; 

And I a bird to shelter there, 

When wearied on my little wing-: 

How wad I mourn when it was torn 
By autumn wild, and winter rude ! 

But I wad sing on wanton wing^, 

When youthful May its bloom renew'd.* 

" O gin my love Avere yon red rose. 
That grows upon the castle wa'. 

And I mysel' a drap o' dew 
Into her bonie breast to fa' ! 

" O, there beyond expression blest, 
I'd feast on beauty a' the night; 

Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest. 
Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light." 

* These stanza* were prefixed by Bums. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 415 



ADDRESS TO A LADY. 

Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast, 

On yonder lea, on yonder lea, 
My plaidie to the angry airt, 

I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee : 
Or did misfortune's bitter storms 

Around thee blaw, around thee blaw. 
Thy bield should be my bosom, 

To share it a', to share it a'. 



Or were I in the wildest waste. 

Sag black and bare, sae black and bare, 
The desert were a paradise. 

If thou wert there, if thou wert there : 
Or were I monarch o' the globe, 

Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign. 
The brightest jewel in my crown 

Wad be my queen, wad be my queen 



THE AULD MAN. 

But lately seen in gladsome green, 

The woods rejoice the day ; 
Thro' gentle show'rs the laughing flow'rs 

In double pride were gay. 



416 BURNS'S POEMS 

But now our joys are fled 

On winter blasts awa ; 
Yet maiden May, in rich array, 

Again shall bring tlieni a'. 

But my white pow, nae kindly thowe 

Shall melt the snaws of age ; 
My trunk of eild, but buss or bield, 

Sinks in Time's wint'ry rage. 
Oh, age has weary days, 

And nights o' sleepless pain; 
Thou golden time o' youthful prime, 

Why com'st thou not again ? 



JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. 

John Anderson, my jo, John, 

When we were first acquent. 
Your locks were like the raven, 

Your bonie brow was brent ; 
But now your brow is held, John, 

Your locks are like the snow: 
But blessings on your frosty pow, 

John Anderson, my jo. 

John Anderson, my jo, John, 
We clanib the hill thegither 

And monie a canty day, John, 
We've had wi' ane anither; 



BURNS'S i>op:m3. 417 

Now wc maun totter down, John 

But hand in liand we'll go, 
And sleep tliegithcr at tlie foot, 

John Anderson my jo. 



AULD LANG SYNE. 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
And never brought to min' ? 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
And days o' lang syne ? 



For auld lang syne, my dear, 

For auld lang syne ; 
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, 

For auld lang syne. 

We twa hae run about the braes, 

And pu't the gowans fine; 
But we've wander'd monie a weary foot, 

Sin' auld lang syne. 

For auld, &c. 

We twa hae paidl't i' tne bum, 

Frae mornin' sun till dine, 
But seas between us braid hae roarM, 

Sin' auld lang syne. 

For auld, &c 



418 BURNS'S FOEMS. 

And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, 

And gie's a hand o' thine; 
And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught, 

For auld lang syne. 

For auld, &c. 

And surely ye'U be your pint-stowp, 

And surely I'll be mine ; 
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, 

For auld lang syne. 

For auld, &.c. 



HOPELESS LOVE. 
Tune — ^^Liggeram CoshJ'* 

Blithe hae I been on yon hill, 
As the lambs before me ; 

Careless ilka thought and free. 
As the breeze flew o'er me : 

Now nae longer sport and play, 
Mirth nor sang can please me ; 

Lesley is sae fair and coy, 
Care and anguish seize me. 

Heavy, heavy, is the task. 
Hopeless love declaring : 

Trembling, I dow nocht but glowV, 
Sighing, dumb, despairing ! 



BURNS'S POEMS. il'S' 

If she winna ease the thraws, 

In my bosom swelling, 
Underneath the grass-green sod 

Soon maun be my dwelling. 



BANKS OF NITH. 
Tune — ^^ Robie Donna GoracL''* 

The Thames flows proudly to the sea, 
Where royal cities stately stand; 

But sweeter flows the Nith to me, 

Where Commons ance had high command! 

When shall I see that honor'd land, 
That winding stream I love so dear.^ 

Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand 
For ever, ever keep me here ? 

How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales. 

Where spreading hawthorns gaily .bloom ! 

How sweetly wind thy sloping dales. 

Where lambkins wanton thro' the broom! 

Tho' wand'ring now, must be my doom, 
Far from thy bonie banks and braes, 

May there my latest hours consume, 
Amang tlie friends of ear.y days ! 



430 BURNS'S POEMS. 



BANKS OF CREE. 

Here is the glen, and here the bow*r, 
All underneath tlie birchen shade; 

The village bell has told the hour: 
O what can stay my lovely maid ? 

'Tis not Maria's whisp'ring call; 

'Tis but the balmy-breathing gale, 
Mixt with some warbler's dying call. 

The dewy star of eve to hail. 

It is Maria's voice I hear ! 

So calls the wood-lark, in the grove, 
His little faithful mate to cheer: 

At once 'tis music — and 'tis love. 

And art thou come ? and art thou true ? 

O welcome, dear to love and me ! 
And let us all our vows renew. 

Along the flow'ry banks of Cree. 



CASTLE GORDON. 

Streams that glide in orient plains, 
Never bound by wmter's chains ; 
Glowing here on golden sands. 
There commix'd with foulest stains 



BURNS'S POEMS. 421 

From tyranny's empurplM bands ; 
Those, their richly-gleaming waves, 
I leave to tyrants and their slaves ; 
Give me the stream that sweetly ]ave» 
The banks by Castle Gordon. 

Spicy forests, ever gay. 
Shading from the burning ray 
Hapless wretches sold to toil, 
Or the ruthless native's way. 
Bent on slaughter, blood, and spoil ; 
Woods that ever verdant wave, 
I leave the tyrant and his slave; 
Give me the groves that lofly brave 
The storms by Castle Gordon. 

Wildly here, without control. 
Nature reigns, and rules the whole ; 
In that sober, pensive mood. 
Dearest to the feeling soul. 
She plants the forest, pours the flood ; 
Life's poor day I'll musing rave. 
And find at night a shelt'ring cave, 
Where waters flow and wild woods wave, 
By bonie Castle Gordon. 
36 



423 



AFTON WATER. 

Flow gently, sweet Aflon, among thy green braes , 
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise : 
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream. 
Flow gently, sweet Aflon, disturb not her dream. 

Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, 
Ye wild-whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, 
Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear; 
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair. 

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills, 
Far mark'd by the courses of clear, winding rills ; 
There daily I wander, as noon rises high, 
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. 

How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, 
Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow; 
There, oft as mild evening weeps over the lea, 
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. 

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how gently it glides, 
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides: 
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave. 
As, gath'ring sweet flow'rets, she stems thy clear ware. 

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among tliy green braes, 
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays : 
My INIary's asleep by thy murmuring stream ; 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. 



BURxNs's POEMS. 4Xj 



THE SACRED VOW. 
Tune — "^//an fVaier.'" 

By Allan stream I chanc'd to rove, 

Willie Phojbus sank below Bunlcddi;* 

The winds were whi.sp'ring through the g^ove, 
The yellow corn was waving ready : 

I lis.tcn'd to a lover's sang, 

And thought on youthfu' pleasures monie; 
And ay the wild-wood echoes rang — 

O, dearly do I love thee, Annie ! 

O, happy be the woodbine bow'r, 
Nae nightly bogle make it eerie ; 

Nor ever sorrow stain the hour, 

The place and time I met my dearie ! 

Her head upon my throbbing breast, 

She, sinking, said, "I'm thine for ever!" 

While monie a kiss the seal imprest. 
The sacred vow we ne'er should sever 

The haunt o' Spring's the primrose brae, 
The Summer joys the flocks to follow; 

How cheery, tlirough her short'ning day, 
Is Autumn in her weeds o' yellow: 

* A mouiilaiii west of Siruili-AJkui, 'iOUU feet higU. 



424 BURNS'S POEMS. 

But can they melt the glowing heart, 
Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure, 

Or thro' each nerve the rapture dart, 
Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure ' 



THE RIGS O' BARLEY 
Tune — " Com rigs are bonuJ* 

It was upon a Lammas night, 

When corn rigs are bonie, 
Beneath the moons unclouded light, 

I held awa to Annie : 
The time flew by tentless heed. 

Till 'tween tlie late and early ^ 
Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed 

To see me through the barley. 

The sky was blue, the wind wois still 

The moon was shining clearly ; 
I sat her down wi' right good will, 

Amang the rigs o' barley: 
1 kent her heart was a' my ain ; 

I lov'd her most sincerely ; 
1 kiss'd her owre and owre again, 

Amang tlie rigs o' barley! 

I lock'd her in my fond embrace ; 

Her heart was beating rarely ; 
My blessings on that happy place 

Amang the rigs o' barley I 



BURNS'S POEMS. 4!35 

But, by the moon and stars so bright, 

That shone that hour so clearly ; 
She ay shall bless that happy night, 

Amang the rigs o' barley! 

I hae been blithe wi' comrades dear: 

I hae been merry drinkin' ; 
I hae been joyfu' gath'rin' gear ; 

I hae been happy thinkin' : 
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw, 

Tho' three times doubled fairly, 
That happy night was worth them a', 

Amang the rigs o' barley ! 



Corn rigs, an' barley rigs. 

Corn rigs are bonie ; 
I'll ne'er forget that happy night, 

Amansr the riffs wi' Annie. 



THE LEA-RIG. 

When, o'er the hill, the eastern star 

Tells bughtin-time is near, my jo; 
And owsen frae the furrow'd field, 

Return sae dowf and weary, O ; 
Down by the burn, where scented birka 

Wi' dew are hanging clear, my jo, 
I'll meet thee on the lea-rig. 

My ain kind dearie, O 
36* 



486 BURNS S POEMS. 

In mirkest glen, at midnight hour, 

I'd rove, and ne'er be eerie, O, 
If thro' that glen I gaed to thee, 

My ain kind dearie, O. 
Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild. 

And I were ne'er sae wearie, O, 
I'd meet thee on the lea-rig, 

My ain kind dearie, O. 



The hunter lo'es the morning sun, 

To rouse the mountain deer, my jo; 
At noon the fisher seeks the glen, 

Along the burn to steer, my jo : 
Give me the hour o' gloamin' gray, 

It maks my heart sao chcerie, O, 
To meet thee on the lea-rig. 

My ain kind dearie, O. 



THE LASS OF BALLOCHMYLE. 

*TwAS ev'n — the dowy fields were green, 

On ev'ry blade tlic pearls hang ; 
The zephyr wanton'd round the bean, 

And bore its fraorant sweets alanfj: 
In ev'ry glen the mavis sang, 

All nature list'ning seem'd the while, 
Except where greenwood echoes rang, 

Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 427 

With careless step I onward stray'd, 

My heart rejoic'd in nature's joy, 
When musing in a lonely glade, 

A maiden fair I chanc'd to spy: 
Her look was like the morning's eye, 

Her air like Nature's vernal smile, 
Perfection whisper'd, passing by, 

"Behold the lass o' Bailochmyle ! " 

Fair is the morn in flow'ry May, 

And sweet is night in Autumn mild. 
When roving thro' the garden gay, 

Or wand'ring in the lonely wild: 
But Woman, Nature's darling child ! 

There all her charms she does compile ; 
Ev'n there her other works are foil'd. 

By the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. 

O, had she been a country maid. 

And I the happy country swain, 
Tho' shelter'd in tlie lowest shed 

That ever rose in Scotland's plain! 
Thro' weary winter's wind and rain, 

With joy, with rapture, I would toil. 
And nightly to my bosom strain 

The bonie lass o' Ballochmyle! 

Then pride might climb the slipp'ry steep 

Where fame and honors lofly shine ; 
And thirst of gold might tempt the deep 

Or downward seek the Indian mine : 
Give me the cot be.ow the pine. 

To tend the flocks, or till the soil. 
And ev'ry day have joys divine, 

Wi' the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. 



128 BURNS'S POEMS. 



BONIE LESLEY. 

O SAW ye bonie Lesley, 

As she gaed o'er the border? 

She's gane, like Alexander, 

To spread her conquests farther. 

To see her is to love her, 
And love but her for ever; 

For Nature made her wTiat she is, 
And ne'er made sic anither ! 

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, 
Thy subjects we, before thee ; 

Thou art divine, fair Lesley, 
Tlie hearts o' men adore thee. 

The Deil he could na scaith thee, 
Or aught that wad belang thee ; 

He'd look into thy bonie face. 
And say, " I canna wrang thee." 

The Pow'rs aboon will tent thee; 

Misfortune sha' na steer thee ; 
Thou'rt like themselves, sae lovely, 

That ill they'll ne'er let near thee. 

Return again, fair Lesley, 

Return to Caledonie! 
That we may brag we hae a lass 

Tliere's nane agfain sae bonie. 



BriiNs s POEMS. 429 



BONIE .EAN. 

There was a lass, and she was fair, 
At kirk and market to be seen : 

When a' the fairest maids were met, 
The fairest maid was bonie Jean. 

And ay she wrought her mammie's wark. 

And ay she sang sae merrilie; 
The blithest bird upon the bush 

Had ne'er a lighter heart tljan she. 

But hawks will rob the tender joys 
That bless the little lintwhite's nest ; 

And frost will blight the fairest flowers, 
And love will break the soundest rest. 

Young Robie was the brawest lad, 
The flow'r and pride of a' the glen ; 

And he had owsen, sheep, and kye, 
And wanton nagies nine or ten. 

He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste, 
He danc'd wi' Jeanie on the down ; 

And, lang ere witless Jeanie wist. 
Her heart was tint, her peace was stown. 

As, in the bosom o' the stream, 
The moonbeam dwells at dewy e'en, 

6c, trembling, pure, was tender love, 
W'thin the breast o' bonie Jean. 



430 BURNS'S POEMS. 

And now she works her niammie's wark, 
And ay she sighs wi' care and pain ; 

Yet wist na wnat her ail might be, 
Or what wad make lier weel again. 

But did na Jeanie's heart loiip light, 
And did na joy blink in her e'e, 

As Robie tauld a tale o' love. 
An e'enin', on the lily lea ? 

The sun was sinking in the west, 
The birds sang sweet in ilka grove; 

His cheek to hers he fondly prest 
And whisper'd thus his tale o' love: 

O Jeanie fair ! I lo'e thee dear ; 

O canst thou think to fancy me? 
Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot, 

And learn to tent the farms wi' me ? 

At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge, 
Or naething else to trouble thee ; 

But stray amang the heather-bells. 
And tent the waving corn wi' me 

Now what could artless Jenny do ? 

She had na will to say him na 
At length she blush d a sweet consent, 

And love was ay betw)en them twa. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 431 



DAINTY DAVIE. 

Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers. 
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers ; 
And now comes in my happy hours, 
To wander wi' my Davie. 

CHORUS. 

Meet me on the warlock knowe, 
Dainty Davie, jainty Davie ; 

There I'll spend the day wi' you, 
My ain dear dainty Davie. 

Tlie crystal waters round us fa. 
The merry birds arc lovers a' ; 
The scented breezes round us blaw, 
A-wandering wi' my Davie. 
Meet me, &lc. 

When purple morning starts the haro. 
To steal upon her early fare. 
Then thro' the dews I will repair, 
To meet my faithfu' Davie. 
Meet me, &c. 

When day, expiring in the west, 
The curtain draws o' Nature's rest, 
I flee to his arms I lo'e best, 

And that's my ain dear Davie, 



432 BURNS'S POEMS. 



Meet mc on the warlock knowe, 
Bonie Davie, dainty Davie, 

There I'll spend the day wi' you, 
My ain dear dainty Davie. 



TO JEANIE. 

Air — "CanW KaiV 

Come, let me take thee to my breast, 
And pledge we ne'er shall sunder; 

And I shall spurn, as vilest dust. 
The warld's wealth and grandeur. 

And do I hear my Jeanie own, 
That equal transports move her? 

I ask for dearest life, alono, 
That I may live to love iior. 

Thus in my arms, wi' all thy charms, 
I clasp my countless treasure ; 

I'll seek nae mair o' heaven to share, 
Than sic a moment's pleasure: 

And by thy een, sae bonie blue, 
I swear I'm thine for ever: 

And on thy lips I seal my vow, 
And break it shall I never. 



BDRNS'S POEMS. 438 



CLOUDEN KNOWES. 
Tuif« — " Co! the. Yoioes to the knowes. 



Ca' the yowes to tlio knowes, 
Ca' tliem whare the hcatlier grawa, 
Ca' them whare the biirnie rows, 
My bonie dearie. 

Hark, the mavis' evening sang, 
Sounding Clouden's woods amang; 
Then a-faulding let us gang, 
My bonie dearie. 

Ca' the, &c. 

We'll gae down by Clouden side. 

Thro' the hazels spreading wide, 

O'er the waves that sweetly glide 

To the moon sae clearly, 

Ca' the, &.C. 

Yonder Clouden's silent tow'rs. 
Where at moonshine midnight hour*, 
O'er the dewy bending flowers, 
Fairies dance sae cheery. 
Ca' the, &c. 

Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear; 
Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear. 



434 • BURNS'S POEMS. 

Nocht of ill may come thee near 
My bonie dearie. 

Ca' the, &c. 

Fair and lovely as thou art, 
Tiioii hast stown my very heart; 
I can die — but canna part, 
My bonie dearie. 

Ca' tlie, Sic. 



LOVELY NANCY. 
Tune — "7Vj« qiutket^s mjK" 

Turns am I, my faithful fair, 
Thine, my lovely Nancy ; 

Ev'ry pulse alon^j my veins, 
Ev'ry roving fancy. 

To thy bosom lay my heart. 
There to throb and languish: 

Tho' despair had wrung its coreij 
That would heal it5 anguislu 

Take away those rosy lips, 
Rich with bahuy treasure ; 

Turn away thine eyes of love. 
Lest I die with pleasure. 

What is life when Avanting love 
Night without a morning: 

Love's the cloudless summer sky 
Nature's gay adorning. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 435 



TO CHLORIS. 
TcifE — " jVv lodging is on the mUI ground^ 

Mv Chloris, mark how ^con the groves 
The primrose-banks, how fair! 

The bahny galea awake the flowers, 
And wave thy flaxen hair. 

The lav'rock shuns the palace gay, 

And o'er the cottage sings; 
For nature smiles as sweet, I ween, 

To shepherds as to kings. 

Let minstrels sweep tJie skilfu' string 

In lordly lighted ha' ; 
The shepherd stops his simple reed, 

Blithe, in the birken shaw. ^ 

The princely revel may survey 

Our rustic dance wi' scorn ; 
But are their hearts as light as ours. 

Beneath the milk-white thorn? 

The shepherd, in the flowery glen, 
In shepherd's phrase will woo; 

The courtier tells a finer tale, 
But is his heart as true ? 

These wild- wood flowers, I've pu'd, to deck 

That spotless breast o' thine ; 
The courtier's gems may witness love — 

But 'tis na love like mine. 



436 ^URNS'S POEMS. 



LASSIE Wr THE LINTWHITE LOCKSL 
Tune — " Rotheinur die's EanC 

CHORUS. 

Lassie wi' the lintwliite locks, 

Bonie lassie, artless lassie. 
Wilt thou wi' nie tent the flocks, 

Wilt thou be my dearie, O ? 

Now nature deeds the flowery lea. 
And a' is young and sweet like tlice 
O wilt thou share its joys wi' me. 

And say thou'lt be my dearie 0/ 
Lassie, &c. 

And when the welcome simmer showo 

Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower, 

We'll to the breathing woodbine bow© 

At sultry noon, my dearie, O. 

Lassie, &c. 

When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray, 
The weary siiearer's hameward way; 
Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray 
And talk o' love, my dearie, O. 
Lassie, &c. 

And when the hoAvling wintry blast 
Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest. 
Enclasped to my faithtu' breast, 
I'll comfort thee, my deurie, O 
Lassie, &c. 



BUP'«S'S ruRMS. 437 



CHLORIS. 

O BONiE was yon rosy brier, 

That blooms sae far frae haunts o' man; 
And bonie she, and ah, how dear ! 

It shaded frae tlie e'enin' sua. 

Yon rose-buds in the morning dew, 

How pure amang the leaves sae green! 

But purer was the lover's vow 

They witness'd in their shade yestreen. 

All in its rude and prickly bower. 
That crimson rose how sweet and fairl 

But love is far a sweeter flower, 
Amid life's thorny path o' care. 

The pathless wild, and wimpling burn, 
Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine; 

And I the world, nor wish, nor scorn, 
Its joys and griefs alike resign. 



THE ROSE-BUD. 

A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, 
Adown a corn-enclosed bawk, 
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk. 
All on a dewy morning. 
37* 



438 KURMS'S I-OKIMS. 

V4V0 twice the shiulos o' diivvn aro fled, 
In a' its crimson glory spread, 
And dr()0])iii<r rich the dewy head, 
It scents the early niornin*^. 

Within the hush, iier covert neat, 
A little linnet fondly prest; 
The dew sat chilly on lu^r breast 
Sae early in the njornin<if. 

She soon shall see lior tender brood, 
'J'he pride, the ph^isiiro o' the wotid, 
Anianu^ the IVesh {rreen leaves bedew'd, 
Awalic the (.'arly iiiornino-. 

, So thon, d(\'ir bird, younii^ .l<MMiy fair, 

/ On tremblin'r strin<r or vocal air, 

Shall swei'tly pay the tend(M- c;ire 
That tents thy early luornin;:^. 

So thou, sw(M>t rose-bud, youn<x and gay, 
Shall beauteous blaze upon the day. 
And bh^ss the parent's evening ray 
That watch'd thy early morning. 



TIIK niRKS OF ARKRFF.LDY. 



Dome lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go, 
Bonie lassie, will ye go to Ihe birks of Aberfeldy ? 



Now fiimrncr blinks on flow'ry braos, 
And o'er tlio cryHtul Btroarulct plays, 
Conic, let UH spend the li|,Mit8on»c days 
In the bilks of Abcrfeldy. 

13onic lassie, &C. 

While o'er their heads the hazels hing, 
The little birdies blithely sinfr, 
Or lij,Mitly Hit, on wanton winjr, 
In the birks of Abcjrfeldy. 

lJ(jnie lassie, &-C. 

The braes ascend like lofly wa's, 
The foaming streatn dcop-roaring fa's, 
O'erhung wi' fragrant, spreading shaws, 
The birks of Aberfcldy. 

IJonie lassie, &lc. 

The hoary cliflTs arc crown'd wi' flow'rs, 
While o'er the linns the burnie pours. 
And, rising, wccts, wi' nriisty show'rs. 
The birks of AberOddy. 

IJonie lassie, &-c. 

Let Fortune's gifls at random flee, 
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae mc, 
Supremely blest wi' love 'and thee, 
In the birks of Aberfeldy. 

llonie lassie, &c 



440 BURNS S POKMS. 



THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE. 
Tune — " This is no my ain House/* 

CHORUS. 

O THIS is no my ain lassie, 
Fair tho' the lassie be ; 

O weel ken I my ain lassie, 
Kind love is in her e'e. 

1 see a form, I see a face, 
Ye weel may wi' the fairest place; 
It wants, to me, the witching grace, 
The kind love that's in her e'e. 
O this, &c. 

She's bonie, blooming, straight and tall. 
And lang has had my heart in thrall; 
And ay it charms my very saul. 
The kind love that's in her e'e. 
O this, &c. 

A thief sae pawkio is my Jean, 
To steal a blink by a' unseen ; 
But gleg as light are lovers' een, 
When kind love is in the e'e. 
O this, &c. 

It may escape the courtly sparks. 
It may escape the learned clerks; 
But weel the watching lover marks 
The kind love tliat's in her e'e. 
O this, &c. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 441 



CONSTANCY. 

Tune— ^^ My love is lost to m*.** 

O, WERE I on Parnassus' hill! 
Or had of Helicon my fill ; 
That I mig-ht catch poetic skill, 
To sing- how dear I love thee. 



But Nith maun be my Muse's well, 
My Muse maun be thy bonie sel' : 
On Corsincon I'll glow'r and spell. 
And write how dear I love thee. 



Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my \B.y\ 
For a' the lee-lang- simmer's day, 
I could na sing, I could na say 

How much, how dear 1 love thee. 

I see thee dancing o'er the green. 
Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae c^^c »» 
Thy tempting lips, thy roguish een — 
By heaven and earth, I love thee ! 



By night, by day, a-field, at hame, 
The thoughts o' thee my breast inflame; 
And ay I .muse and sing thy name, 
1 only live to love thee. 



442 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Though I were doom'd to wander on, 
Beyond the sea, beyond tlie sun, 
Till my last weary sand was run ; 
Till then — and then I love thee. 



PEGGY'S CHARMS. 
TcNE — "JV. Gow''s Lamentation for Ahercaimy,^ 

Where braving angry winter's storms, 

The lofty Ochels rise, 
Far in their shade my Peggy's channs, 

First blest my wondering eyes ; 
As one who by some savage st-eam, 

A lonely gem surveys, 
Astonish'd, doubly marks its beam, 

With art's most polish'd blaze. 

Blest be the wild sequester'd shade, 

And blest the day and hour. 
Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd, 

When first I felt their power! 
The tyrant Death, with grim coutrol, 

May seize my fleeting breath ; 
But tearing Peggy from my soul 

Must be a strono-cr death 



443 



JESSY. 
Tune — " Htrt^s a health to them thaVs awa, hiney^ 

CHORUS. 

Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear, 

Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear ; 

Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, 

And soft as their parting tear — Jessy! 

Altho' thou maun never be mine, 

Altho' even hope is denied ; 
'Tis sweeter for thee despairing-. 

Than aught in the world beside — Jessy! 
Here's &c. 

I mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day, 
As hopeless I muse on thy charms ; 

But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber, 
For then I am lock'd in thy arms — Jessy. 
Here's &.c. 

I guess by the dear angel smile, 

I guess by the love-rolling c'e; 
But why urge the tender confession, 

'Gainst fortune's fell, cruel decree — Jessy. 
Here's &c. 



444 BURNS'S FOEMB. 



THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE. 

I GAED a waefu' gate, yestreen, 

A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue: 
I gat my death frae twa sweet cen, 

Twa lovely een o' bonie blue. 
'Twas not her golden ringlets bright, 

Her lips like roses wat wi' dew. 
Her heaving bosom, lily white : 

It was her een sae bonie blue. 

She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd, 

She charm'd my soul, I wist na hoAv ; 
And ay the stound, the deadly wound, 

Cam frae her een sae bonie blue. 
But spare to speak, and spare to speed ; 

She'll aiblins listen to my vow : 
Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead 

To her twa een sae bonie blue. 



WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE? 

Wilt tliou be my dearie? 

When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart, 
O wilt thou let me cheer thee ? 

By the treasure of my soul, 
And that's the love I bear thee! 



BURNS'S POEMS. 445 



I swear and vow that only thou 
Shall ever be my dearie. 

Only thou, I swear and vow, 
Shall ever be my dearie. 

Lassie, say thou lo'es me ; 

Or, if thou wilt na be my ain, 
Say na thou'lt refuse me: 

If it winna, canna be. 
Thou for thine may choose me, 

Let me, lassie, quickly die, 
Trusting- that thou lo'es me : 

Lassie, let me quickly die, 
Trusting that thou lo'es me* 



THE BLISSFUL DAY. 
Tune — " Seventh of JVovemherJ" 

The day returns, my bosom burns, 

The blissful day we twa did meet, 
Tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd. 

Ne'er summer sun was half sae sweet : 
Than a* the pride that loads the tide. 

And crosses o'er the sultry line ; 
Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes. 

Heaven gave me more — it made thee mine. 

While day and night can bring delight. 
Or nature aught of pleasure give ; 

While joys above, my mind can move, 
For thee, and thee alone, I live! 
38 



446 BURNS'S POEMS. 

When tliat grim foe of life below 
Conies in between to make us part ; 

The iron hand that breaks our band, 
It breaks my bliss — it breaks my heart. 



LOVELY JEAN 
Tune — *^ Miss Admired Gordon's Strathspey^ 

Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, 

I dearly like the west ; 
For there the bonie lassie lives, 

The lassie I lo'e best. 
There wild woods grow, and rivers row, 

And monie a hill between ; 
But, day and night, my fancy's flight 

Is ever wi' my Jean. 

I see her in the dewy flowers, 

I scC her sweet and fair ; 
1 hear her in the tuncfu' birds, 

I hear her charm the air: 
There's not a bonie flower that springs 

By fountain, shaw, or green ; 
There's not a bonie bird that sings. 

But minds me o' my Jean. 



BURNS S P0EM3. 447 



LUCY. 

O, WAT ye wha's in yon town. 
Ye see the e'enin' sun upon ? 

The fairest dame is in yon town, 
The e'enin' sun is sliining on. 

Now haply down yon gay, green shatr, 
She wanders by yon spreading tree ; 

How blest ye flow'rs that round her blaw, 
Ye catch the glances o' her e'e. 

How blest ye birds that round her sing. 
And welcome in the blooming year ; 

And doubly welcome be the spring. 
The season to my Lucy dear. 

The sun blinks blithe on yon town, 
And on yon bonie braes of Ayr; 

But my delight in yon town, 
And dearest bliss, is Lucy fair. 

Without my love, not a' the charms 
O' Paradise could yield me joy; 

But gie me Lucy in rty arms, 

And welcome Lapland's dreary sky ! 

My cave wad be a lover's bow'r, 
Tho' raging winter rent the air ; 

And she a lovely little flow'r, 
That I wad tent and shelter there 



448 BURNS^S POEMS. 

O, sweet is she in yon town, 

Yon sinking sun's gaen down upon; 
-A fairer than is in yon town, 

His setting beams ne'er shone upon. 

If angry fate is sworn my foe, 

And suffering I am doom'd to bear, 

I careless quit all else below. 

But spare me, spare me, Lucy dear 

For while life's dearest blood is warm, 
Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart, 

And she — as fairest is her form. 
She has the truest, kindest heart 



BLITHE PHEMIE 



Blithe, blithe and merry was sbo, 
Blithe by the banks of Em ; 

And blithe was she but an' ben, 
And blithe in Glenturit glen. 

By Oughtertyre grows the aik. 

On Yarrow banks the birken shaw 

But Phemie was a bonier lass 
Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw 
Blithe, &c. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 449 

Her looks were like a flower in May, 
Her smile was like a simmer morn; 

She tripped by the banks of Ern, 
As light's a bird upon a thorn. 
Blithe, &c. 

Her bonie face it was as meek 

As onie lamb upon a lea; 
The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet, 

As was the blink o' Phemie's e'e. 
Blithe, &c. 

The Highland hills I've wander'd wide, 
And o'er the Lowlands I hae been; 

But Phemie was the blithest lass 
That ever trod the dewy green. 
Blithe, &G. 



CHARMING NANNIE. 

Behind yon hills where Lugar flows, 
'Mang moors and mosses many, O, 

The wintry sun the day has clos'd, 
And I'll awa to Nannie, O. 

The westlin wind blaws loud an' shrill; 

The night's baith murk and rainy, ® • 
But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal 

An' owre the hills to Nannie, O. 
39* 



450 BURNS'S POEMS. 

My Nannie's charming-, sweet, an' young; 

Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O ; 
May ill befa' the flattering tongue 

That wad beguile my Nannie, O. 

Her face is fair, her heart is true, 
As spotless as she's bonie, O ; 

The op'ning gowan, wet wi' dew 
Nae purer is than Nannie, O. 

A country lad is my degree. 

An' few there be that ken me, O ; 

But what care I how few they be, 
I'm welcome ay to Nannie, O 

My riches a' 's my penny-fee, 
An' I maun guide it cannie, O; 

But warl's gear ne'er trouble me. 
My thoughts are a' my Nannie, O. 

Our auld guidman delights to view 
His sheep an' kye thrive bonie, O; 

But I'm as blithe that bauds his plough, 
An' has nae care but Nannie, O. 

Come weal, come wo, I care na by, 
I'll tak what heaven will sen' me, O 

Nae ither care in life have I, 
But live an' love my Nannie, O. 



BCRNS'S POEMS. 45] 



GREEN GROW THE RASHEa 

A FRAGMENT. 
CHORUS. 

Green grow the rashes, O! 

Green grow the rashes, O! 
The sweetest hours that e'er I spent, 

Are spent amang the lasses, O! 

There's nought but care on ev'ry han', 
In ev'ry hour that passes, O ; 

What signifies the life o' man. 
An' twere na for the lasses, O? 
Green grow, &c. 

The warly race may riches chase, 
An' riches still may fly them, O; 

An' tho' at last they catch them fast, 
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O. 
Green grow, &.c. 

But gie me a cannie hour at e'en. 
My arms about my dearie, O ; 

An' warly cares, an' warly men, 
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O. 
Green grow, &c. 

For you sae douse, ye sneer at tliis, 

Ye're nought but senseless asses, O; 
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw. 



452 BURNs'^i POEMS. 

He dearly lov'd tlie lasses, O. 
Green grow, &lc. 

Auld Nature swears the lovely dears 
Her noblest work she classes, O ; 

Her 'prentice han' she tried on man, 
An' then she made tlie lasses, O. 
Green grow, &c. 



THE HIGHLAND LASSIE. 

NiE gentle dames, tlio' e'er sae fair, 
Shall ever be my Muse's care; 
Their tiUes a' are empty show, 
Gic n.e my tiighland lassie, O. 

PHORUS. 

Within ti:e glen sae bushy, O, 
Aboon the pmm sae rushy, O, 
I set me down wi' right good will, 
To sing my Hignland lassie, O. 

Oh, were yon hill and vallies mine, 
Yon palace and yon gardens fine ! 
The world then the love should know 
I bear my Highland lassie, O. 

Within, &c. 

But fickle fortune frowns on me, 
And I maun cross tlie raging seaj 



BURNS'S POEMS. 453 

But while the crimson currents flow, 
I'll love my Highland lassie, O. 

Within, &c. 

Altho' thro' foreign climes I range, 
I know her heart will never change ; 
For her bosom burns with honor's glow, 
My faithful Highland lassie, O. 

Within, &c. 

For her I'll dare the billows' roar, 
For her I'll trace a distant shore. 
That Indian wealth may lustre throw 
Around my Highland lassie, O. 

Within, &c. 

She has my heart, she has my hand, 
By sacred truth and honor's band ; 
Till the mortal stroke shall lay me loir, 
I'm thine, my Highland lassie, O, 

Farewell the glen sae bushy, O, 
Farewell the i)lain sae rushy, O, 
To other lands I now must go. 
To sing my Highland lassie, O. 



454 BURNS'S rOEMS. 



ANNA. 
Tune — " Banks of BanaJ* 

Yestrken I had a pint o' wine, 
A place where body saw na; 

Yestreen lay on tliis breast of mina 
The raven locks of Anna. 

The hungry Jew, in wilderness, 

Rejoicing o'er his manna, 
Was naetliing- to my honey bliss 

Upon the lips of Anna. 

Ye monarchs, take the east and west, 

Frae Indus to Savannah ; 
Gie me within my straining grasp 

Tlie melting form of Anna. 

Then I'll despise imperial charms, 

An empress or sultana ; 
While dying raptures, in her arms, 

I give and talce with Anna. 

Awa, thou flaunting god of day . 

Awa, tliou pale Diana ! 
Ilk star gae hide thy twinkling ray 

When I'm to meet my Anna. 

Come, in thy raven plumage, Night! 

Sun, moon, and stars, withdraw a' I 
And bring an angel-pen to write 

My transports wi' my Anna! 



ttURNS's POEMS. 455 



THE SPINNING-WHEEi* 

O LEEZE me on my spinning-whepl, 
O leezo me on my rock and reel ; 
Frae tap to tae that deeds me bien, 
And haps me tiel and warm at e'en! 
I'll sit me down and sing and spin, 
While lEtigh descends the simmer sm; 
Blest wi' content, and milk and meal — 
O leeze me on my spinning-wheRl. 

On ilka hand tlie burnics trot, 
A.nd meet below my theekit cot ; 
"f^he scented birk and hawthorn wliite 
'across the pool tlieir arras unite, 
41ike to screen the birdie's nest, 
\nd little tishes' caller rest ; 
Che sun blinks kindly in the biel, 
wVIiere blithe I turn my spinning-wheel 

^ >n lofty aiks the cushats wail, 
\nd echo cons the dolefu' talc; 
The lintwhites, in the hazel braes, 
Oelighted, rival ither's lays : 
f he craik, amang the claver hay, 
The paitrick, whirrin' o'er the ley. 
The swallow, jinkin' round my shiel, 
Amuse me at my spinning-wheel. 

•*\''i' sma' to sell, and less to buy, 
Aboon distress, below envy, 



456 



BURNS'S POEMS. 



O wha wad leave this humble state, 
For a' the pride of a' the great ? 
Amid their flaring, idle toys, 
Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys. 
Can they the peace and pleasure feel 
Of Bessy at her spinning-wheel ? 



THE COUNTRY LASSIE. 

In simmer, when the hay was mawn, 

And corn wav'd green in ilka field, 
While claver blooms white o'er the lea, 

And roses blaw in ilka bield ; 
Blitlie Bessie in the milking shiel, 

Says, I'll be wed, come o't what will; 
Out spak a dame in wrinkled eild, 

O' guid advisement comes nae ill. 

Its ye nae wooers monie ane, 

And lassie, ye're but young, ye ken; 
Then wait a wee, and cannie wale, 

A routhie butt, a routhie ben ; 
There's Johnnie, o' the Buskie glen, 

Fu' is his barn, fu* is his byre; 
Tak this frae me, my bonie hen, 

It's plenty beets the kuer's fire. 

For Johnnie, o' the Buskie-glen, 

I dinna care a single file ; 
He lo'es sac weel his craps and kye. 

He has no luve to spare for me 



BURJNfs's POEMS. 457 

But blithe's the blink o' Robie's e*e, 
And weel I wat he lo'es me dear; 

Ae blink o' him I wad nae gie 
For Buskie-glen and a' his gear. 

O thoughtless lassie ! life's a faught ; 

The canniest gate, the strife is sair; 
But ay fu' han't is fechtin best, 

A hungry care's an unco care : 
But some will spend, and soTne will spare, 

An' willfu' folk maun hae their will ; 
Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair, 

Keep mind that ye maun drink the yUl. 

O, gear will buy me rigs o' land, 

And gear will buy me sheep and kye 
But the tender heart o' leesome love 

The gowd and siller canna buy: 
We may be poor — Robie and I, 

Light is the burden love lays on: 
Content and luve brings peace and joy — 

What mair hae queens upon a throne? 



TAM GLEN. 



My heart is a breaking, dear Tittie, 
Some counsel unto me come len' ; 

To anger them a' is a pity. 
But what will I do wi' Tam Glen? 
39 



458 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Vm thinking, wi* sic a braw fellow, 
In pooitith I mi<?ht make a fen'; 

What care I in riches to wallow, 
If I maun marry Tarn Glen ? 

There's Lowrie, the laird o' Drumeller, 
" Guid day to you, brute," he comes ben 

He brags an' he blaw o' his siller. 

But when will he dance like Tam Glen? 

My minnie does constantly dcave me. 
And bids me beware o' young men; 

They flatter, she says, to deceive me ; 
But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen? 

My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him, 
IIc'll gic me guid hunder marks ten; 

But if it's ordain'd I maun tak him, 
O wha will I get but Tam Glen? 

Vestreen, at the Valentine's dealing, 
My heart to my mou gied a sten; 

For thrice I drew ane without failing, 
And thrice it was written Tam Glen. 

The last Halloween I was waukin 
My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken; 

His likeness cam up the house staukin, 
In the very gray breeks o' Tam Glen 

Some counsel, dear Tittie, don't tarry; 

I'll gie ye my bonie black lien, 
Gif ye will advise me to marry 

The lad I lo'e dearly Tam Glen 



BURNS'S POEMS. 459 



SOMEBODY. 

My heart is sair, I dare na tell, 
My lieart is sair for somebody 
I could wake a winter night, 
For the sake o' somebody 
0-hon ! for somebody ! 
0-hey ! for somebody ! 
I could range the world around, 
For the sake o' somebody. 

Ye powers that smile on virtuous love, 

O sweetly smile on somebody I 
Frae ilka danger keep him free, 
And send me safe my somebody. 
Oh-hon ! for somebody ! 
Oh-hey ! for somebody ! 
I wad do -^ what wad I not ? — 
For the sake o' somebody ! 



O WHISTLE, &c 



CHORUS. 



O ^THISTLE, and I'll come to you, my lad; 
O jvhistle, and I'll come to you, my lad; 
Tuo' father, and mither, and a' should go mad, 
O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad. 



460 JBUIINS'S POEMS. 

But M'^arily tent, when ye come to court me, 
And come na unless the back-yett be a-jee ; 
Syne up tlie back-stile, and let naebody see, 
And come as ye Avere na comin' to me. 
And come, &c. 

O whistle, &.C. 

At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me, 
Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd na a flie : 
But steal me a blink o' your bonie black e'e, 
Yet look as ye were na lookin' at me. 
Vet look, &c. 

O whistle, &c. 

Ay vow and protest that ye care na for me, 
And whyles ye may lightly my beauty a wee; 
But court na anither, tho' jokin' ye be, 
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me. 
For fear, &c. 

O whistlft, &LC 



ANE-AND-TWENTY. 
Tune — " The MoiidiewortJ* 



An' O for ane-and-tAventy, Tam ! 

An' hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tam! 
I'll learn my kin a rattlin' sang-, 

An' I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam ' 



EURJNS'S POEMS. 461 

Tliey snool me sair, and hand me down, 
And ^rar me look like bluntie, Tarn! 

But three short years will soon wheel roun', 
And then comes ane-and-twenty, Tarn. 
An' O, &c. 



A gleib o' Ian', a claut o' gear, - 
Was left me by my auntie, Tarn' 

At kith or kin I need na spier. 
An' I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam. 

An' O, &,c. 

They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof, 
Tho' I mysel' hae plenty, Tam ! 

But hear'st thou, laddie, there's my loof, 
I'm tliine at ane-and-twenty, Tam, 

An' O, &c 



THE YOUNG LASSIE. 

What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie^ 
What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man ? 

Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie 
To sell her poor Jennie for siller an' Ian' ' 
Bad luck on the penny, &,c. 

He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to e'enin', 
He hosts and he hirples the weary day lang; 

He's doylt and he's dozin', his bluid it is frozen. 
O dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man' 
39* 



462 BURNS'S POEMS. 

He hums and lie hankers, he frets and he cankera 
I never can please him, do a' that I can; 

lie's peevish and jealous of a' the youn^ fellows 
C), dool on the day I met wi' an auld man! 

My auld auntie Katie upoii me taks pity; 

ni do my endeavor to follow her plan : 
I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-break him, 

And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan. 



THE MERCENARY LOVER. 

Tune — " Balhiamona Ora^^ 

AwA wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms, 
The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms ; 
O g\e me tlie lass that has acres o' charms, 
O gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms. 



Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher, then hey for a lasi 

wi' a tocher. 
Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher — the nice yeJcw 

guineas for me. 

Your beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows, 
And withers the faster, the faster it grows ; 
liut the rapturous cliarm o' the bonie green knowcs, 
Ilk spring tliey're new deckit wi' bonie white yowes, 
Then hey, &c. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 4G3 

And e'en w'/ien this beauty your bosom has blest, 
The brifrhtest o' beauty may cloy when possest ! 
But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest, 
The langer ye hae them, the mair they're carest, 
Then" hey, &c. 



MEG O' THE MILL. 

Air — " O 6o?iie lass, idll you lie in a barrack 7** 

O KEN ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten ? 
An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten ? 
She has gotten a coof wi' a claut o' siller, 
And broken the heart o' the barley Miller, 

The Miller was strappan, the Miller was ruddy! 
A lieart like a lord, and a hue like a lady; 
The laird was a widdicfu' bleerit knurl ; 
She's left the guid fellow, and taen the churl. 

The Miller he hecht her a heart leal and loving; 
The laird did address her wi' matter mair moving 
A fine pacing horse, wi' a clear chained bridle 
A whip by her side, and a bonie side-saddle 

O wae on the siller, it is sae prevailing ; 
And wae on the love that is fix'd on a mailen ! 
A tocher's nae word in a true lover's parle, 
But, gie me my love, and a fig for tlie wai 



464 BURNS'S POEMS. 



MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL. 

O MEiKLE thinks my luve o' my beauty, 

And meikle thinks my luve o' my kin ; 
But little thinks my luve I ken brawlie, 

My tocher's the jewel has charms for him. 
I's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree, 

It's a' for the hiney he'll cherish the bee ; 
My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi' the siller, 

He canna hae luve to spare for me. 

Your proffer o' luve's an airl-penny, 

My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy ; 
But an' ye be crafty, I am cunnin', 

Sae ye wi' anither your fortune maun try. 
Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood, 

Ye're like to the bark o' yon rotten tree ; 
Ye'U slip frae me like a knotless thread, 

And ye'U crack your credit wi' inae nor mc. 



AULD ROB MORRIS. 

There's auld Rob Morris, that wons in yon glen. 
He's the king o' guid fellows, and wale of auld men 
He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine. 
And ae bonie lassie, his darl ng and mine. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 465 

She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May, 
She's sweet as the evening amang the new hay; 
As blithe and as artless as the lambs on the lea, 
And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e. 
«■ 

But oh ! she's an heiress — auld Robin's a laird, 
And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard 
A wooer like me mauna hope to come speed, 
The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead. 

The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane; 
The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane; 
I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist, 
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast 

had she but been of lower degree, 

1 then might hae hop'd she wad smil'd upon me; 
O, how past describing had then been my bliss, 
As now my distraction no words can express. 



TO TIBBIE. 
Tune — " InverccdiTs Reel.'" 



O Tibbie, I hae seen the day. 
Ye would nae been sae shy ; 

For laik o' gear ye lightly me, 
But trowth I care na by. 



BCRNS'S POEMS. 

Vestreen I mot you on the moor; 

Ye spak na, but g-aed by lilie stoure ; 
Ye geek at me because I'm poor, 

But fient a hair care I. 

O Tibbie, &c. 

I doubt na, lass, but ye may think 
Because ye hae the name o' clink, 

That ye can please me at a wink, 
Whene'er ye like to try. 

O Tibbie, &c. 

But sorrow tak him that's sae moan, 
Akho' his pouch o' coin were clean, 

Wha follows any saucy quean 
That looks sae proud and high. 
O Tibbie, &c. 

Altlio' a lad wore e'er sae smart, 
If that he want the yellow dirt, 

Ye'll cast your head anither airt. 
And answer him fa' dry. 

O Tibbie, &.c 

But if he hae the name o' gear, 
Ye'll fasten to him like a brier, 

Tho' hardly he, for sense or lear. 
Be better than tiie kye. 

O Tibbie, &c. 

But Tibbie, lass, tak my advice, 

Vour daddie's gear maks you sae nice, 

The doil a one wad spier your price, 
Were ye as pooi as I. 

O Tibbie, &.C 



BURNS'S POEMS. 467 



There lives a lass in yonder park, 
I wad nae gie her in her sark. 

For thee wi' a' thy thousand mark: 
Ye needna look sae high. 

O Tibbie, &c. 



DUNCAN GRAY. 

Duncan Geat came here to woo, 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't, 
On blithe yule night when we were fu ; 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't 

Maggie coost her head fu' high, 

Look'd asklent and unco skeigh, 

Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh : 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't. 

Duncan fleech'd and Duncan pray'd ; 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Meg was deaf as Ailsa craig : 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Duncan sigh'd baith out and in, 
Grat his een baith bleer't and blin', 
Spak o' louping o'er a linn:^ 

Ha, ha, &c. 

Time and chance are but a tide • 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Slighted love is sair ta^ bide : 

Ha, ha, &c. 



468 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Shall I, like a fool, quoth he. 

For a haughty hizzie die ? 

She may go — to France for me ! 

Ha, ha, &-c. 
• 

How it comes let doctors tell, 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Meg grew sick — as he grew well, 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Something in her bosom wrings ; 
For relief a sigh she brings ; 
And O, her een, they spak sic thihg* 

Ha, ha, &lc. 

Duncan was a lad o' grace. 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Maggie's was a piteous case. 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Duncan could na be her death, 
Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath; 
Now they're crouse and cantie baith ; 

Ha, ha, «fec. 



THE BRAW WOOER. 
Tune — " The Lothian Lassie.'" 

Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, 
And sair wi' his love he did deave me! 

I said there was naething I hated like men; 
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me, believe me, 
The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me. 



BURNS S POEMS. 469 

He spak o' the darts in my bonie black een, 
And vow'd for my love he was dying ; 

I said he might die when he liked, for Jean ; 
The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying, 
The Lord forgie me for lying. 

A well-stocked mailen, himsol' for the laird, 
And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers ; 

I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd, 

But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers. 
But thought I might hae waur offers. 

But what wad ye think ? in a fortnight or less, 
The deil tak his taste to gae near her ! 

He up the lang loan, to my black cousin Bess, 
Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her, could boa. 

her. 
Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her. 

But a' the niest week, as I fretted wi' care, 

I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock ; 
And wha but my fine, fickle lover was there ! 

I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock, 

I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock. 

But owre my lefl shouther I gaed him a blink, 

Lest neebors might say I was saucy ; 
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, 

And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie, 

And vow'd I was his dear lassie. 

I spier'd for my cousm, fu' couthie and sweet, 

Gin she had recover'd her hearin', 
And how her new shoon fit her auld shackl't feet? 
40 



470 BURNS S POEMS. 

But, heavens! how he fell a-swearin', a-swearia, 
But, heavens ! how he fell a-swearin'. 



He beg-g'd, for Gude-sake ! I wad be his wife, 
Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow : 

Bo, e'en to preserve the poor body in life, 

1 think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow 
I Ihink I maun wed him to-morrow. 



WILLIE'S WIFE. 

Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, 
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie; 

Willie was a wabster guid, 

Cou'd stown a clue wi' onie bodie: 

lie had a wife was dour and din, 
O Tinkler Madgie was her mother. 

ciiouus. 

Sic a wife as Willie had ! 

I wad na gie a button for her. 

She has an e'e — she has but ane, 
The cat has twa the very color; 

Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump, 

A clapper-tongue wad deave a miller; 

A whiskin' beard about her mou, 
Her nose and chin they threaten ither 
Sic a wife, &,c. 



BURNS'S POEMS. 471 

She's bough-hough'd, she's hein-sliinn'd, 
Ae limpin' leg, a hand-breed shorter ' 

She's twisted rig-ht, she's twisted left, 
To balance fair in ilka quarter: 

She has a hump upon her breast, 
The twin o' that upon her shouther. 
Sic a wife, &C. 

Auld baudron by the inf^le sits, 

And wi' her loof her face a-waahin' ; 

But Willie's wife is nae sae trig-, 

She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion ; 

Her walie nieves, like midden-creels. 
Her face wad fyle the Logan- water. 
Sic a wife, &,c 



A PECK O' MAUT. 

O Willie brew'd a peck o' maut, 
And Rob and Allen cam to see , 

Three blither hearts, that lee-lang night, 
Ye wad na find in Christendie. 

CHORUS. 

We are na fou, we're na that fou. 
But just a drappie in our e'e ; 

The cock may craw, the day may daw, 
And ay we'll taste the b:irlcy bree 

Here are we met, three merry boys, 
Three merry boys, I trow, are we; 



472 BURNS'S POEMS. 

And monie a night we've merry been, 
And nionie mae we hope to be ! 

We are, &c. 

It is the moon, I ken her horn, 
That's blinkin' in the lift sac hie; 

She shines sae bright to wyle us hame, 
But, by my sooth, slie'll wait a Avee ' 
We are, &.c. 

W'la first shall rise to gang awa, 
A cuckold, coward loun is he ! 

Wha last beside the chair shall fa', 
He is the king amang us three 

We are, &,c. 



THE LAWIN. 

Gane is the day and mirk's tlie night, 
But we'll ne'er stray tor foute o' light; 
For ale and brandy's stars and moon, 
And bluid-red Avine's the rising sun. 



Then, guidwife, count the lawin, the lawin, the 

lawin ; 
Then guidwife, count the lawin, and bring a coggie 

main 

There's wealth and ease for gentlemen, 
And semple folk maun fecht and fen'* 



BURNS'S POEMS. 473 

But here we're a' in ae accord, 
For ilka man that's drunk's a lord. 

Then, guidwife, &.c. 

My cof^g-io is a haly pool, 

That heals the wounds o' care and dool 

And plcasu--c is a wanton trout. 

An' ye drink it a' ye'll find him out. 

Then, guidwife, &c. 



HONEST POVERTY. 

Is there for honest poverty, 

That hangs his head, and a' that? 
The coward slave we pass him by, 

We dare be poor for a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that. 

Our toil's obscure, and a' that. 
The rank is but the guinea's stamp. 

The man's tlic gowd for a' that. 

What tho' on hamely fare we dine. 

Wear hoddin gray, and a' that? 
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their w:ne, 

A man's a man for a' that ; 
For a' that, and a' that. 

Their tinsel show and a' that : 
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, 

Is king o' men for a' that 
40* 



474 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Yg see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, 

VVha struts, and stares, and a' tliat 
Tho' hundreds worship at his word, 

lie's but a coof for a' that : 
For a' that, and a' that, 

I lis ribbon, star, and a* tliat, 
Tlie man of independent mind, 

He looks and laughs at a' that. 

A prince can mak a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke, and a' that ; 
But an honest man's aboon his might; 

Guid faith, he mauna fa' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that. 

Their dignities and a' that. 
The pith o' sense and pride o' worth, 

Are higher ranks than a' that. 

Then let us pray that come it may. 

As come it will for a' that, 
That sense and worth, o'er a' the eaitii, 

May bear the gree, and a' that 
For a' that, and a' that, 

Its coining yet, for a' that, 
That man to man, the warld o'er 

Shall brothers be for a' that- 



BURNS'S POEMS. 473 



THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR, 

BETWEEN THE DUKE OF ARGYLE AND THE EARi 
OF MAR. 

" O 0AM ye here tlie fight to shun, 

Or herd the sheep wi' me, man? 
Or were ye at the Sherra-muir, 

And did the battle see, man?" 
I saw the battle sair and tough. 
And reeking red ran many a sheugh ; 
My heart, for fear, gacd sough for sough, 
To hear the thuds, and see the chids, 
O' clans frae woods in tartan duds, 

Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three, man. 

The red-coat lads, wi' black cockades, 

To meet them were na slaw, man ; 
They rush'd, and push'd, and bluid outgush'd, 

And monie a bouk did fa' man; 
The groat Argyle led on his files, 
I wat they glanced twenty miles ; 
They hack'd and hash'd, while broadswords clasli'j^ 
And thro' they dash'd, and hew'd and smash'd, 

Till fey men died awa, man. 

But had you seen tlie Phillibegs, 

And skyrin tartan trews, man, 
When in the teeth they dar'd our whigs, 

And covenant ti'ue blues, man ; 
In lines extended lang and large. 
When bayonets oppos'd Ijie targe. 



476 BURNS'S PO£MS. 

And thousands liasten'd to the cliarrre, 
Wi' Highland wrath, they frae the sheath 
Drew blades o' death, till out o' breath, 
They fled like frighted doos, man. 

" O how, deil. Tarn, can that be true ? 

The chase gaed frae the north, man; 
I saw, myself, they did pursue 

The horsemen back to Forth, man: 
And at Dumblane, in my ain sight, 
They took the brig wi' a' their might, 
And straught to Stirling wing'd their flight; 
But, cursed lot ! the gates were shut, 
And monie a huntit poor red-cuat, 

For fear amaist did .-'warf, man.' 

My sister Kate cam up the gate, 

Wi' crowdie unto me, man; 
She swore she saw some rebels run 

Frae Perth unto Dundee, man: 
Their lefl-hand gcn'ral had nae skill. 
The Angus lads had nae good will 
That day their neebors' bluid to spill ; 
For fear by foes that they should lose 
Their cogs o' brose: all crying woes. 

And so it goes, you see, man. 

They've lost some gallant gentlemen, 

Amang the Highland clans, man 
I fear my Lord Panmure is slain. 

Or fall'n in whiggish hands, man: 
Now wad ye sing this double fight. 
Some fell for wrang, and some for right 
But nionie bade the world guid-night 



BURNS'S POEMS. 477 

Then ye may tell, how pell and mell, 
By red claymores, and muskets' knell, 
Wi' dying yell, the tories fell, 
And whisfs to hell did flee, man. 



CONTENTMENT. 

Tune — ^^ Lumps o' Pudding.''^ 

Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair, 
Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care, 
I gie them a skelp, as they're creeping alang, 
Wi' a cog o' guid swats, and an auld Scottish sang 

I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought; 
But man is a sodger, and life is a faught: 
My mirth and guid humor are coin in my pouch, 
And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touci* 

A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa', 
A night o' good fellowship sowthers it a' : 
When at the blithe end o' our journey at last, 
Wha the devil ever thinks o' the road he has past? 

Blind chance, let her snapper stoyte on her way, 
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae : 
Come ease, or come travail; come pleasure or pain; 
My warst ward is- -" Welcome, and welcome again ! - 



478 BURNS'S POEMS. 



THE DUMFRIES VOLUNTEERS. 

APRIL, 1795. 

Tune — ^^ Push about the Jorum.^ 

Does haughty Gaul invasion threat? 

Then let the loans beware, sir; 
There's wooden walls upon our seas, 

And volunteers on shore, sir. 
The Nith shall run to Corsincon,* 

And Criffel f sink in Solway, 
Ere we permit a foreign foe 

On British ground to rally ! 

Fall de rail, &c. 



O let us not, like snarling tykes, 

In wrangling be divided ; 
Till, slap ! come in an unco loun, 

And wi' a rung decide it. 
Be Britain still to Britain true, 

Amang oursels united ; 
For never, but by British hands, 

Maun British wrangs be righted. 
Fall de rail, &c. 

The ke'ttle o' the kirk and state, 
Perhaps a claut may fail in't ; 



* A high lull at the source of the Nith. 

t A well-known mountain at the mouili of '.lie Solway.. 



BURNS S POEMS. 47^ 

But deil a foreign tinkler loun 

Sliall ever ca' a nail in't 
Our fathers' bluid the kettle bought 

And wha wad dare to spoil it? 
By heav'n! the sacreligious dog 

Shall fuel be to boil it! 

Fall de rail, Slc, 

The wretch that wad a tyrant own, 

And the wretch, his true-born brother, 
Who would set the moh aboon the throne^ 

May they be d — n'd together ! 
Who will not sing, "God save the King,^ 

Shall hang as high's the steeple : 
But while we sing, " God save the King," 

We'll ne'er forget the People. 

Fall de rail, &c. 



CALEDONIA. 
Tune — ^^ Humours of Glen.'''' 

Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon, 
Where bright-beaming sumniors exalt tlie perfume; 

Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan, 
Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom. 

Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers, 
Wliere the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen 

For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers, 
A-listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean. 



480 BURNS'S POEMS. 

Tho' rich is tlie breeze in their gay sunny valleys, 

And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave : 
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the prcud 
palace — 
What are they? — The haunt of the tyrant and 
slave. 

The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains, 
The brave Caledonian views with disdain : 

He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains, 
Save love's willing fetters, the chains o' his Jean 



COMIN' THROUGH THE RYE. 

Tune — " Gin a Body meet a Body " 

Gin a body meet a body, 

Comin' thro' the rye ; 
Gin a body kiss a body, 

Need a body cry? 
Ev'ry lassie has her laddie, 

Nane, they say, hae I ! 
Yet a' the lads they smile at me, 
When comin' thro' the rye. 
Amang the train there is a swain 

I dearly lo'e mysel'; 
But whaur his hame, or what his name, 
I dinna care to tell. 

Gin a body meet a body, 
Comin' frae the town 



BURNS'S rOEIMS. 481 

Gin a body greet a body, 

Need a body frown ? 
Ev'ry lassie has her laddie, 

Nane, they say, hae I ! 
Yet a' the lads they smile at me, 
V/hen comin' thro' the rye. 
Amang the train there is a swain 

I dearly lo'e mysel' ; 
But whaur his hame, or what his name, 
I dinna care to tell. 



THE WHISTLE. 

A BALLAD. 

As t.ie authentic prose liistor}' of "The Whistle" is curious, I shaE 
here give it. 

In the train of Anne of Denmark, when she came to Scotland with 
our James VI., there came over also a Danish gentleman of gigantio 
Blature aiirt great prowess, and a matchless champion of Bacchus. He 
had a little ebony Whistle, which, at the commencement of the orgies, 
he laid on the table ; and whoever was last able to blow it, every body 
else behig disabled by the potency of the bottle, was to carry off the 
Whistle as a trophy of victory. The Dane produced credentials of hit 
victories, without a smgle defeat, at the courts of Copenhagen, Stock* 
bDim, Moscow, Warsaw, and several of the petty courts in Germary; 
and chadeiiged the Scots Bacchanalians to the alternative of trying )rji 
prowess, or else of acknowledging their mferiority. 

After many overthrows on the part of the Scots, the Dane was en- 
seiinlered by Sir Robert Lawrie, of Maxwelton, ancestor of the presenJ 
worthy baronet of that name ; who, after three days, and three nights' 
hard contest, left the Scandinavian under the table, 

" And blew on the Whistle his requiem shrill." 

Sir Walter, son tc Sir Robert before-mentioned, afterwards lost tbt 

41 



482 BURNS'S POEIVH. 

Whistle to Walter Riddel, of Glcnriddel, wlio had married a sister of 
Sir Wallers. 

On Friday, the 16th of October, 1790, at Friars-Carse, the Whistle 
was once more contended for, as related in the baUad, by Uie present Sir 
Robert Lawne, of Maxwelton; Robert Riddel, Esq , of Gleiiriddel, Ini- 
eal descendant and representative of Waller Riddel, u ho won the 
Whistle, and in wliose family it had continued; and Alexander Fer- 
guson, Esq., of Craigdarroch, likewise descended of the great Sir Rob- 
ert; which last gentleman earned oif the hard-won honors of the field. 

I SING of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth, 
I sing of a Whistle, the pride of the North, 
Was brought to the court of our good Scottish king, 
And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring. 

Old Loda * still rueing the arm of Fingal, 
The god of the bottle sends down from his hall — 
"This Whistle's your challenge, to Scotland get o'er, 
And drink them to hell, sir ! or ne'er see me more ' " 



Old poets have sung, and old chronicles tell. 
What champions ventur'd, what champions fell; 
The son of great Loda was conqueror still, 
And blew on the Whistle his requiem shrill. 

Till Robert, the Lord of tlie Cairn and the Scaur, 
Unmatch'd at the bottle, unconquer'd in war, 
He drank his poor godship as deep as the sea, 
No tide of the Baltic e'er drunker than he. 

Thus Robert, victorious, the trophy has gain'd. 
Which now in his house has for ages remain'd; 
Till three noble chieftains, and all of his blood, 
The jovial contest again have renew'd. 

See Ossian's Caric- thura. 



BURNS^S POEMS. 485 

Three joyous g-ood fellows, witli hearts clear of flaw, 
Craicrdarroch, so famous for wit, worth, and law ; 
And trusty Glenriddel, so skill'd in eld coins ; 
And gallant Sir Robert, deep-read in old wines* 

Craigdarroch began, with a tongue smooth as oil. 
Desiring Glenriddel to yield up the spoil ; 
Or else he would muster the heads of the clan, 
And once more, in claret, try which was tlie man 

" By the gods of the ancients ! " Glenriddel replies, 
" Before I surrender so glorious a prize 
I'll conjure the ghost of the great Rorie More,* 
And bumper his horn with him twenty times o'er." 

Sir Robert, a soldier, no speech would pretend, 
But he ne'er turn'd his back on his foe or his friend, 
Said, Toss down the Whistle, the prize of the field, 
And, knee-deep in claret, he'd die, or he'd yield 

To the board of Glenriddel our heroes repair. 

So noted for drowning of sorrow and» care ; 

But for wine and for welcome not more known to fame. 

Than the sense, wit, and taste, of a sweet, lovely dame. 

A bard was selected to witness the fray, 
And tell future ages the feats of the day; 
A Bard who detested all sadness and spleen. 
And wish'd that Parnassus a vineyard had been. 

The dinner being over, the claret they ply, 
And ev'ry new cork is a new spring of joy ; 

• See Johnson's Tour lo the Hebrides. 



484 BUKNS'S POEMS. 

In tlie bands of old friendship and kindred so set, 
And the bands g-revv the tighter the more they were weL 

Gay pleasure ran riot as bumpers ran o'er; 
Bright Phoebus ne'er witness'd so joyous a core, 
And vow'ci that to leave them he was quite forlorn, 
Till Cynthia hinted he'd see them next morn. 

Six bottles apiece had well wore out the night, 
When gallant Sir Robert, to finish the fight, 
Turn'd o'er in one bumper a bottle of red. 
And swore 'twas the way that their ancestors did. 

Then worthy Glenriddel, so cautious and sage, 
No longer the warfare, ungodly, would wage ; 
A high ruling Elder, to wallow in wine! 
He left the foul business to folks less divine. 

The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the end; 
But who can with fate and quart-bumpers contend ? 
Tho' fate said — a hero should perish in light; 
So up rose brighA Phcebus — and down fell the knight 

Next up rose our Bard, like a prophet in drink : — 
" Craigdarroch, thou'lt soar when creation shall sink ; 
But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme, 
Come — one bottle more — and have at the sublime ! 

*' Thy line, that have struggled for freedom with Bruce, 

Shall heroes and patriots ever produce. 

So thine be the laurel, and mine be the bay; 

The field thou hajst won, by yon bright god of day ' ' 



BURNS'S POEMS. 48-1 



JOHN BARLEYCORN.* 

A BALLAD. 

There vent three kings into the east, 
Three kings both great and high, 

An' they hae sworn a solemn oath, 
John Barleycorn should die. 

They took a plough and plough'd him down, 

Put clods upon his head, 
And they hae sworn a solemn oath 

John Barleycorn was dead. 

But the cheerful spring came kindly on, 

And showers began to fall ; 
John Barleycorn got up again, 

And sore surprised them all. 

The sultry suns of summer came. 

And he grew thick and strong, 
His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears 

That no one should him wrong. 

The sober autumn enter'd mild, 

When he grew wan and pale, 
His bending joints and drooping head 

Show'd he began to fail. 



• This is partly composed on the plan of an old song knovyu ly Ihn 
Muue imme. 

41* 



48G BURrfs's poems. 

Ilis color sicken'd more and more. 

He faded into age ; 
And then his enemies began 

To show their deadly rage. 

They've ta'en a weapon long and sharps^. 

And cut him by the knee : 
Then tied hnn fast upon a cart, 

Like a rogue fur forgerie. 

They laid him down upon his back, 
And cudgelled him full sore ; 

They hung him up before the stonji 
And turn'd him o'er and o'er. 

They filled up a darksome pit 

Wi' A water to the brim ; 
They heaved in John Barleycorn. 

There let him sink or swim. 

They laid him out upon the floor 

To work him farther wo ; 
And still as signs of life appeared, 

They toss'd him to and fro. 

They wasted o'er a scorching flame 

The marrow of his bones ; 
But a miller used him worst of ail. 

For he crush'd him between two Btones* 

And they hae taen his very heart's blood, 
And drank it round and round; 

And still the more and more they drank, 
Their joy did more abound. 



15CR>S'S POEMS. 487 

John Barleycorn was a hero bold, 

Of noble enterprise ; 
For. if you do but taste his blood, 

'Twill make your courage rise. 

'Twill make a man forget his wo ; 

'Twill heighten all his joy ; 
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing, 

Tho' the tear were in her eye. 

Then let us toast John Barleycorn- 

Each man a glass in hand ; 
ind may his great posterity 

Ne'er fail m R'sid Scctksi! 



GLOSSARY 



The ch and ^h have always the guttural sound. The 
sound of the English diphthong oo, is commonly spelled ou. 
Tlie French u, a sound which often occurs in the Scottish 
language, is marked oo, or ui. The a in genuine Scottish 
words, except when forming a diphthong, or followed by 
an e mute, after a single consonant, sounds generally like 
the broad English a in wall. The Scottish diphthongs, «, 
always, and ea, very often, sound lilce the French e mascu- 
line. The Scottish diphthong ey sounds like the Latin ei. 



A. 

A', all, every one, the whole. 

Aback, away, aloof. 

Abcigh, at a shy distance. 

Aboon, above, up, in the re- 
gions of heaven. 

Abroad, abroad, in sight, at 
large. 

Abreed, in breadth. 

Ae, one. 

Aff, off. 

Aff-hand, extempore, imme- 
diately. 

Aff-loof, unpremeditated. 

Afore, before, sooner than. 

Aft, oft. 



Aften, often, frequently, ma- 
ny times. 

Agley, off the right line, ob- 
lique, wrong. 

Aiblins, perhaps. 

Aik, the oak. 

Air, early, soon. 

Airl-penny, earnest-money a 
piece of money for con- 
firming a bargain. 

Airt, quarter of the heavens 
to direct. 

Aim, ii-on. 

Aith, an oath. 

Aits, oats. 

Aiver, an old horse. 

Aizle, a hot cinder. 



41)2 



GLOSSARY. 



Alake, alas ! 

Alane, alone, solitary, single, 
•without company. 

Akwart, a-svkward, inelegant, 
untaught. 

Amaist, almost, nearly. 

Amang, among, mingled 

An', and, if. [with. 

Ance, once, one time. 

Ane, one ; and. 

Anent, over against, con- 
cerning. 

Anither, another, one more. 

Ase, ashes, the remaiais of 
burnt coals. 

Asklent, asc^uint, aslant. 

Asteer, abroad, stirring. 

Athart, athwart, wrong. 

Aught, possession; as, in a' 
my aught, h\ all my pos- 
session. 

Auldfan-en, or AuldfaiTcnt, 
sagacious, cunning, pru- 
dent. 

Auld lang sjTie, olden time, 
days of other years. 

Auld, old, ancient, advanced 
in years. 

Auntie, an aunt. 

Ava', at all, of all, of any. 

Awa' away, absent. ^ 

Awfu', awful, terrible. 

Awn, the beard of barley, 
oats, &c. 

Awnie, bearded. 

Ayont, beyond, at a distance, 
out of the reach of. 



B. 

Ba', ball. 

Backets, ashboards, a square 
wooden vessel for carrying 
coals to the fire, a kind of 
box for holding salt. 

Backlins comin', coming 
back, retuj-ning. 

Bad, did bid. 

]>aide, endured, did stay. 

Baihe, a magistrate in Scot- 
land, answering to an al- 
derman in England. 

Baggie, dimin. of bag, a fa- 
miliar term used to signiiy 
the belly. 

Bauaie, having large bones, 
stout. 

Bairn, a child. 

Bau-ntime, a family of chil- 
di-en, a brood. 

Baith, both ; likewise. 

Bake, a small cake or biscuit. 

Ban, to swear, to make an ir- 
reverent exclamation; re- 
proach, censure. 

Bane, bone. 

Bang, to beat, to strive, to 
excel. 

Bardie, dimin. of bard. 

Bareiit, barefooted, without 
shoes or stockings. 

Barmie, of, or like barm. 

Batch, a crew, a gang. 

Batts, botts, small worms in 
the entrails of horses. 



GLOSSAIir. 



41>3 



Baudrons, & cat. 

Bauld, bold, intrepid. 

Bawk, a strip of land left 
unploughed, two or three 
feet in width ; a ridge, a 
bank. 

Baw^s'nt, having a white 
stripe down the face. 

Be, to let be, to give over, to 
cease. 

Bear, barley. 

Beastie, dimin. of beast. 

Beet, to add fuel to fire. 

Beld, bald, without hair on 
the head. 

Belyve, by-and-by. 

Ben, into the spence or par- 
lor. 

Benmost, innermost. 

Benloinond, a noted moun- 
tain m Dumbartonshire. 

Bethankit, gTace or short 
prayer after the time or 
act of eating. 

Beuk, a book. 

Bicker, a kind of wooden 
dish, a short race. 

Bie, or Bield, shelter. 

Bien, wealthy, plentiful. 

Big, to build. 

Biggin, building ; a house. 

Biggit, built. 

Bill, a bull. 

Billie, a brother, a young fel- 
low. 

Bing, a heap of grain, pota- 
toes, &c. 

42 



Eirk, birch. 

Birken-shaw, Birchen-wood- 
shaw, a small wood. 

Birkie, a clever fellow. 

Birring, the noise of par- 
tridges, &c., wdien they 
spring. 

Bit, crisis, nick of time. 

Bizz, a bustle ; to buzz. 

Blue, livid. 

Elastic, a shrivelled dwarf, a 
term of contempt. 

Blastit, blasted. 

Elate, bashful, sheepish. 

Blather, bladder. 

Blaud, a flat piece of any 
thing ; to slap. 

Blaw, to blow, to boast. 

Bleerit, bleared, sore with 
rheum. 

Blcert and blin', bleared and 
bhnd. 

Bleezing, blazing, llaming. 

Blellmn, an idle, talking fel- 
low. 

Blether, to tallc idly ; non- 
sense. 

Bleth'rin, talking idly. 

Blink, a little white, a smiU 
ing look ; to look kindly, 
to shine by fits. 

Blinker, a term of contempt, 

ElinkLa, smirking, ogKng. 

Blithe, or Blythe, cheerful. 

Blue-gown, one of those beg- 
gars who get annually, on 
the king's birth- day, « 



V:n 



GLOSSARY. 



blue cloak or gown, with 
a badge. 

Bkxid, blood. 

Bluntie, snivelling. 

Blj-pe, a shred, a large piece. 

Bock, to vomit, to gush in- 
termittently. 

Booked, gushed, vomited. 

Bodle, an old copper coin, of 
the value of pennies Scots, 
or one-third of an Eng- 
lish penny. 

Bogles, spirits, hobgoblins. 

Bonie, or Bony, handsome, 
beautiful. 

Bonnock, a kind of thick 
cake of bread, a small jan- 
nack or loaf nxadc of oat- 
meal. 

Boord, a board. 

Boortree, the slirub elder, 
planted much of old in 
hedges of barn-yards, &c. 

Boost, behooved, must needs. 

Bore, a hole in the wall. 

Botch, blotch, an angry tu- 
mor. 

Bouk, body, a person. 

Bousing, drinking, quaffing. 

Bow-kail, cabbage. 

Bcw-hough'd, applied to the 
lOwcr part of the thighs, 
when crooked or bent out- 
wards. 

Brackens, fern. 

Brae, a decliAity, a precipice, 
the slope of a liill. 



Braid, broad, plain. 

Bragin't, reeled forward. 

Brails:, a kind of harrow, an 
instrument used in hus- 
bandry. 

Brainge, to run rashly for- 
"\\ ard. 

Ih-ak, l:roke, made insolvent. 

Branks, a kind of wooden 
curb for horses. 

Brash, a sudden illness. 

Brats, coarse clothes, rags, 
&c. 

Brattle, a short race, hurry, 
fury. 

Braw, fine, handsome. 

BraAvlyt, or Brawlie, very 
Avell, finely, heartily. 

Braxie, a morbid sheep. 

Breastie, dimin. of breast. 

Breastit, did spring up or 
forward. 

Breckan, fern. 

Breef, an invulnerable or ir- 
resistible spell. 

Breeks, breeches. 

Brent, smooth. 

Brewin, brewing. 

IBrie, juice, liquid. 

Brig, a bridge. 

Briuistane, brimstone. 

Brisket, the breast, the bo 
som. 

Briiher, a brother. 

Brock, a badger. 

Brogue, a hum, a trick. 

Broo, broth, liquid, water. 



GLOSSARY. 



495 



Broso, a kind of pottage, 
made by pouring boiling 
water or broth on oat-meal, 
which is stirred while the 
water is poured ; a race at 
coxmtry weddings, who 
shall first reach the bride- 
groom's house, on return- 
ing from church, so called, 
perhaps, from brose being 
allotted to the victor. 

Brownie, a spirit, supposed, 
till lately, to haunt old 
houses, particularly those 
attached to farms, and 
sometimes to do the drudg- 
ery' of the servants during 
the night. 

Brugh, a burgh. 

Bruilzie, a broil, a combus- 
tion. 

Brunt, did burn, burnt. 

Brust, to burst, burst. 

Buchan-bullers, the boiling 
of the sea among the rocks 
on the coast of Buchan. 

Bucksin, an inhabitant of 
Virginia. 

Bught, a pen. 

Bughtin-time, the time of 
collecting the sheep in the 
pens to be milked. 

Buirdly, stout made, broad 
made. 

Bum-clock, a humming bee- 
tle that flies in the smn- 
mer evenings. 



Bumming, himiming, aa 

bees. 
Bummle, to blunder ; a dolt, 

a stupid person. 
Bummler, a blunderer. 
Bunker, a window-seat. 
Burdies, dimin. of birds. 
Bure, did bear. 
Burn, water, a ri\'Tilet. 
B.urnie, dimin. of bum. 
Buskie, bushy. ^i-^ 

Buskit, dressed finely, deco- ^'?Sr' 

rated. '.'■ 

Busks, dresses. 
Busle, a bustle ; to bustle. 
Buss, shelter. 
But, Bot, with, without. 
But an' ben, the country 

kitchen and parlor. 
By himsel', Ixmatic, distract 

ed. 
Byke, a bee-hive, a crowd 
Byre, a cow-house. 

C. 

Ca', to call, to name, to 

drive. 
Ca't, or Ca'd, called, driven, 

calved. 
Cadger, a carrier. 
Cadie, or Caddie, a person, 

a young fellow. 
Caif, chaff". 
Caird, a tinker. 
Cairn, a loose heap oi 

stones. 



496 



GI ASSART. 



Calf- ward, a f?n"ial] enclosure 
for calves. 

Callan, a bojr. 

Caller, fresh, sound, refresh- 
ing. 

Canie, or Cannie, gentle, 
mild, dexterous. 

OanniKe, dexterously, gen- 
tly. 

Cantie, or Canty, cheerful, 
merry. 
^Oantrip, a charm, a si)cll. 

Caprin, capering, skipping 
inerrily. 

Cap-stane, cope-stone, key- 
stone. 

Carcerin, cheerfully. 

Carl, an old man. 

Carl-hemp, the largest stalk 
of hemp, firmness of mind. 

Carlin, a stout old woman. 

Cartes, cards. 

Caudron, a caldron. 

Cauk and keel, challi and rod 
clay. 

Cauld, cold. 

Caup, a wooden drinking 
vessel. 

Cavie, a coop or pen for 
poultry. 

Cawd, di-iven. 

Cesses, taxes. 

Chanter, a part of a bagpipe 

Cliap, a person, a fellow, a 
blow. 

Chaup, a stroke, a blow. 

Cheekit, cheeked. 



Cheep, a chirp ; to chirp. 

Chicl, or Cheel, a young fel- 
low. 

Chimla, or Chimlie, a fire- 
grate, a fire-place. 

Chimla-lug, the fireside. 

Chittering, shivering, trem- 
bling. 

Chockin, choking. 

Chow, to chew ; Cheek-far- 
chow, side-by-side. 

Chufne, fat-faced. 

Clachan, a small -village 
about a church, a ham- 
let. 

Claise, or Claes, clothes. 

Claith, cloth. 

Claitliing, clothing. 

Claivers, nonsense ; not 
speaking sense. 

Clap, clapper of a mill. 

Clarkit, wrote. 

Clash, an idle tale, the story 
of the day. 

Clatter, to tell little idle sto- 
ries ; an idle story. 

Claught, snatched at, laid 
hold of. 

Claut, to clean, to scrape ; a 
heap, a great quantity, 
abundance. 

Clauted, scraped. 

CI aver clover. 

C la vers, idle stories. 

Claw, to scratch. 

Claw'd, scratched. 

Cla-jinore, a sword, a weapon 



GLOSSARY. 



497 



iist'd either in cutting or 

thrusting'. 
Clced, to clothe. 
Clceds, clothes. 
Clock, to lay h^ld of after 

the manner of a hook, to 

seize at all events, 
Cleekit, having caught. 
Clinkin, jerking, clinking. 
CUnkumbell, he M-ho rings 

the church bell. 
Clips, shears. 

CUshmaclaver, idle conver- 
sation. 
Clock, to hatch ; a beetle. 
Clockin, hatching. 
Cloot, the hoof of a cow, 

sheep, &c. 
Clootie, an old name for the 

De\il. 
Clour, a blimp, or STvelling, 

after a blow. 
Clout, to beat, to strilce ; a 

blow, a cuff. 
Cluds, clouds. 

Clunk, to guggle in the man- 
ner of a bottle when it is 

emptying. 
Coaxin, wheedlmg; flattery. 
Coble, a fishing boat. 
Cockernony, a lock of hair 

tied upon a girl's head, a 

cap. 
Cockie, diniin. of cock. 
Coft, bought. 
Cog, a wooden dish. 
Coggie, dimin, of cog. 



Coila, from Kyle, a district 
of Ayrshire, so called from 
Coil, or Coihis, a Pictish 
monarch. 

Collie, a general, and some- 
times a particular name for 
country curs. 

Collicshangie, quarrelling. 

C'ommaun, command. ^^ 

Good, the cud. ,'¥^ 

Coof, a blockhead, a ninny, -"'^f/.''; 

Cookit, appeared and disap^. _ .;■'. > 
peared by fits. ' ' .; ' * 

Cooser, a horse kept for 
mares. 

Coost, did cast. 

Coot, the ancle, or foot. 

Cootie, a wooden kitchen 
dish ; fowls whose legs are 
clad with feathers are said 
to be cootie. 

Corbies, a species of the 
crow. 

Core, corps, party, clan. 

Corn't, fed with oats. 

Cotter, the inhabitant of .a 
cot-house or cottage. 

Couthie, kind, lo\'ing. 

Cove, a cave. 

Cowe, to terrify, to keep Tin- 
der, to lop ; a fright, a 
branch of furze, broom, 
&c. 

Cowp, to barter, to tumble 
over ; a gang. 

Cowpit, tumbled. " 

Cowrin, cowering, stooping. 



498 



GLOSSARY. 



Co>vt, a colt, a young horse. 

Cozie, snug. 

Coziely, snugly. 

Crabbit, crabbed, fretful, 
sour. 

Crack, to converse ; conver- 
sation. 

Crackin, conversing. 

Craft, or Croft, in old hus- 
bandry, a field near a 
house. 

Craigie, dimin. of crag, the 
throat, the neck. 

Craiks, birds, incessant calls 
or cries. 

Crambo-clink, or Crambo- 
jingle, rhymes, doggerel 

■ verses. 

Crank, the noise of an un- 
grcased wheel. 

Crankous, fretful, captious. 

Cranreuch, the hoar frost. 

Crap, or Crop, the produce 
ol land ; to crop. 

Craw, a crow of a cock ; a 
rook. 

Creel, a kind of osier basket ; 
To have one's wits in a 
^reelf to be crazed, to be 
fascinated. 

Crecshie, greasy. 

Cronie, or Crony, an intimate 
acquaintance. 

Crood, or Croud, to coo, as a 
dove. 

Crooks, old ewes that have 
given over bearing. 



Croon, a hollow, continued 
moan ; to mako a noise 
like the continued roar of 
a bull, to hum a tune. 

Crooning, humming. 

Crouchie, crook-backed. 

Crouse, cheerful, courageous, 

Crousely, cheerfully, cour- 
ageously. 

CroAvdic, a composition of 
oat-mcal and boiled water, 
sometimes from the broth 
of beef, mutton, &c. 

Crowdie-time, breakfast- 
time. 

Crowlin, crawling, creeping. 

Crummock, a cow with 
crooked horns. 

Crump, hard and brittle ; — 
spoken of bread. 

Crunt, a blow on the head 
with a cudgel. 

Cuif, a blockhead, a ninny. 

Cummock, a short staff mth 
a crooked head. 

Curchie, a courtesy. 

Curler, a player at a game 
on the ice, practised in 
Scotland, called curling. 

Curlie, curled ; one whose 
hail- falls naturally in ring- 
lets. 

Curling, a well known gamo 
on the ice. 

Cunmu-ring, mm-rauring; 8 
sUght rumbling noise. . 

Curpin, the crupper. 



GL,OSSARY. 



49& 



Cushat, the dove, or a^oocI- 
pigeon. 

Cutty, short ; a spoon broken 
in the middle, a light wo- 
man. 

Outty-stool, a stool on which 
culprits sit when making 
public satisfaction in the 
kirk, for ha\Tjig committed 
fornication. 

D. 

Daddie, a father. 

Daezt, stupified, deprived of 
vigor or sensibility. 

DafRn, merriment, foolish- 
ness. 

Daft, merry, giddy, foolish. 

Daimen, rare, now and then. 

Daimen-icker, an ear of com 
now and then. 

Dainty, pleasant, good hu- 
mored, agTceable. 

Dales, plains, valleys. 

Danton, to intimidate, to 
subdue. 

Dam, urine, piddle. 

Darklins, darkling, being in 
the dark, void of light. 

Daud, to thrash, to abuse. 

Daur, to dare, to defy. 

Daurt, dared, defied. 

Daurg, or Daurk, a day's la- 
bor. 

Davoc, David. 

Dawd, a large piece 



Dawtit, or Dautet, fondled, 

caressed. 
Dearies, dimin. of dears. 
Deartlifu', dear. 
Dcave, deafen. 
Deil-ma-care, no matter fot 

all that. 
Deleerit, delirious. 
Descrive, to describe. 
Devle, a stunning blow. 
Diddle, to shake, to jog. 
Dight, to wipe, to clean com 

from -chaff; cleaned from 

chaff. 
Dights, clean. 
Din, sallow. 
Ding, to worst, to push. 
Dinna, do not. 
DLrl, a slight tremulous 

stroke or pain. 
DLzzen, or Diz'n, a dozen. 
Doited, stupified, hebetated. 
Dolt, stupified, crazed; a 

stupid fellow. 
Donsie, unlucky. 
Dool, sorrow ; to sing dool, 

to lament, to mourn. 
Doos, doves. 

Dorty, saucy, nice, discon- 
tented. 
Douce, or Douse, sober, wise, 

prudent. 
Douccly, soberly, prudently. 
Dought, was, or were able. 
Doup skelper, one who 

stiikos the tail. 
Doup, the backside. 



500 



GLOSSARY, 



Doul', sullen, obstinate. 

Doure, stout, durable, sullen, 
stubborn. 

Douser, more prudent. 

Dow, am, or are able, can. 

DowiT, pithless, Avanti.ig 
spirit 

Dowio, Avom with, grief, fa- 
tigue. Sec., half asleep. 

hoAvna, am, or are not able, 
cannot. 

Doylt, stupid. 

Drap, a drop ; to drop. 

Drapping, dropping. 

Draunting, drawling. 

Dreep, to ooze, to drop. 

Drcigh, tedious, long about 
it. 

Dribble, drizzling ; slaver. 

Driddle, to be diligent insig- 
nificantly. 

Drift, a drove. 

Droddum, the beech. 

Drone, part of a bagpipe. 

Drop-rumpl't, that droops at 
the crupper. 

Droidvit, drenched, wet. 

Drouth, thirst, drought. 

Drucken, drunken. 

Drumly, muddy, thick, ob- 
scure. 

Drummock, meal and Avater 
mixed raAv. 

Drunt, pet, sour humor. 

])ub, a small pond. 

DtkIs, rags, clothes. 

Duddic, ragged. 



Dung, worsted, pusherf, 

driven, exhausted. 
Dunted, beaten, boxeci 
Dush, to push, as a ram, &e 
Dusht, pushed by a ram, ox, 
&c. 

E. 

E'r, the eye. 

Een, the eyes. 

E'enin', evening, the close 

of the day. 
Eerie, frighted, dreading 

spirits. 
Eild, old age. 
El buck, the elbow. 
Eldritch, ghastly, frightful. 
En', end. 

Enbrugh, Edinburgh. 
Enough, enough. 
Especial, especially. 
Ettle, to try, to attempt, to 

endeavor. 
Eydent, diligent, uidustri- 

ous. 

F. 

Fa', fall, lot; to fall. 

Fa's, does fall ; water-falls, 

Faddom't, fathomed. 

Fae, a foe, an enemy. 

Faem, foam. 

Faiket, unknown, une:m-< 

ployed. 
Fairin, a present at faix-'^ima 



GLOSSARY. 



501 



Fallow, fellow. 

Fcind, did find 

Farl, a cake of breaa. 

Fash, trouble, care ; to troub- 
le, to care for. 

Fashious, troublesome. 

Fasht, troubled. 

Fastcrn E'en, Fasteens Even. 

Fauld, a fold ; to fold. 

Fauldmg, folding. 

Faut, fault. 

Fawsont, decent, seemly. 

Feal, a field ; smooth. 

Fearfu', frightful. 

Fear't, frighted. 

Feat, neat, spruce. 

Fecht, to fight ; a struggle, 
of whatever kind. 

Fechtin, or Fetchin, fight- 
ing. 

Feck, many, plenty. 

Fecket, waistcoat. 

Feckfu', large, brawny, stout. 

Feckless, puny, weak, silly, 
trifling. 

Feckly, weakly. 

Feg, a fig. 

Feide, feud, enmity. 

Fell, keen, biting ; the flesh 
immediately under the 
ekin, a field pretty level 
on the side or top of a 
hill. 

Fen, successful struggle, 
fight. 

Fend, to live comfortably. 

Ferlie, or Fcrly, to wonder ; 



a wonder, a term of con-« 
tempt. 

Fetch, to pull by fits. 

Fetch't, pulled intermittent- 
Fey, foe. py. 

Fidge, to fidget. 

Fiel, soft, smooth. 

Fient, fiend, a petty oath. 

Fier, sound, healthy ; a 
brother, a friend. 

Fisle, to make a rustling 
noise, to fidget ; a bustle. 

Fit, a foot. 

Fizz, to make a hissing noise, 
like fermentation. 

Flainen, flannel. 

Fleech, to suppKcate, or en- 
treat, in a flattering man- 
ner. 

Fleech' d, supplicated. 

Flccchin, supplicating. 

Flcesh, a fleece. 

Flog, a kick, a random blow. 

Flether, to decoy by fair 
words. 

Fletherin, flattering. 

Flewit, a smart blow. 

Fley, to scare, to frighten. 

Flichter, to flutter, as young 
nestlings, when their dam 
approaches. ■ 

Flinders, shreds, broken 
pieces. 

Flingin-trce, a piece of tim- 
ber hung by way of par- 
tition between two horsea 
in a stable, a flail. 



502 



GLOSSARY. 



Flisk, to fret at, the yoke. 

FUskit, fretted. 

Flitter, to vibrate, like tlie 
•WTjigs of small birds. 

Flittering, fluttering, vibrat- 
ing. 

Fliinkie, a servant in livery. 

Foord, a ford. 

Forbears, forefathers, ances- 
tors. 

Forbye, besides. 

Forfain distressed, worn out, 
jaded. 

Forfoughten, fatigued. 

Forgather, to meet, to en- 
couaiter with. 

Forge, to forgive. 

Forjesket, jaded with fatigue. 

Forrit, forward. 

Fother, fodder. 

Fou, full, di-unk. 

Foughten, troubled, ha- 
rassed. 

Fouth, plenty, enough, more 
than enough. 

Fow, a bushel, &c., also a 
pitchfork. 

Frac, from. 

Freath, froth. 

Frien', friend. 

Fu', full. 

Pud, the scut or tail of the 
hare, coney, &c. 

Fuff, to blow intermittently. 

Fuff 't, did blow. 

Funnie, full of merriment. 

Fur, a fiirrow. 



Furm, a form, bench. 

Fyke, trifling cares ; to pid- 
dle, to be in a fuss about 
trifles, to agitate. 

Fyle, to soil, to dirty, to pol- 
lute. 

Fyl't, soiled, dirtied, pollut- 
ed. 



a. 



Gab, the mouth ; to speak 
boldly or pertly. 

Gaberlunzie, an old man. 

Gadsman, a ploughl>oy, the 
boy that drives the horses 
in the plough. 

Gae, to go. 

Gaed, went. 

Gaen, or Gane, gone. 

Gaet, or Gate, way, manner, 
road. 

Gang, to go, to walk. 

Gangrel, strolling wander- 
ing, roving. 

Gar, to make, to force. 

Gar't, forced. 

Garten, a garter. 

Gash, wise, sagacious, talk- 
ative ; to converse. 

Gashin, conversing. 

Gaucy, jolly, large. 

Gaun, going. , 

Gawky, half-witted, foolish, ^ 
romping. ? 

Gear, riches, goods of any 
kind. 



GLOSSARY. 



503 



Geek, to toss the head in 
"wantonness or scorn. 

Ged, a pike. 

Gentles, groat folks. 

Geordie, a guinea. 

Get, a child, a young one. 

Ghaist, a ghost. 

Gie, to give. 

Gied, gave. 

Gien, given. 

Giftic, diinin. of gift. 

Gig/ets, playful girls. 

Gillie, dimin. of gill. 

Gilpey, a half-crown, a half- 
informed boy or girl, a 
romping lad, a hoiden. 

Gimmer, an ewe from one 
to two years old. 

Gin, if, against. 

Gipsey, a young girl. 

Gii-dle, a round plate of iron 
for toasting cakes over the 
lire. 

Girn, to grin, to twist the 
features in rage, agony, 
&c. 

Girning, grinning. 

Gizz, a periwig. 

Glaikit, inattentive, foolish. 

Glaive, a sword. 

Glaizie, glittering, smooth, 
like glass. 

Glaum* d, aimed, snatched. 

Gleg, sharp, ready. 

Gleib, glebe. 

Glen, dale, deep valley. 

Glc}', a squint ; to sqiunt. 



Glib-gabbet, that speaks 

smoothly and readily. 
Glint, to peep. 
Glinted, peeped. 
Glintin, peeping, 
(jloamin, the twilight, 
Glowr, to stare, to look ; a 

stare, a look. 
Glowr'd, looked, stared. 
Glowran, staring. 
Goavan, looking or staling 

awkwardly. 
Gowan, the flower of the 

daisy, dandelion, hawk- 
weed, &c. 
Gowany ; Gowany Glens, 

daisied dales. 
Gowd, gold. 
Go wff, the name of golf ; to 

stiike, as the bat does the 

ball at golf. 
Govff'd, struck. 
Gowk, a cuckoo, a term of 

contempt. 
Gowl, to ho^^■l. 
Gowling, howling. 
Gralf, a grave. 
Grain, or Grane, a grcan; to 

groan. 
Grain'd and Grauntod, 

groaned and grunted. 
Graining, groaning. 
Graip, a pronged instrument 

for cleansing stables. 
Graith, accoutrements, fur« 

niturc, dress. 
G rannic, a "randmother. 



504 



GJ.OSSARY. 



Grapo, to grope. 

Grapit, groped. 

Grat, wept, shed tears. 

Great, intimate, famiKar. 

Uree, to agiee ; To bear the 

grecy to be d&^idodly a^c- 

tor. 
Gree't, agreed. 
Greet, to shed totirs, to 

weep. 
Grectm, crying, weeping. 
Grippct, caught, seized. 
Grout ; To wet the whistle 

of one's groai, to play a 

losing game. 
Grousonie, loathsome, grim. 
Grozet, a gooseberry. 
Grumph, a grimt ; to gnmt. 
Grumphie, a sow. 
Grun', ground. 
GrurLstane, a grindstone. 
Gruntle, the pliiz, a grunting 

noise. 
Gi-unzie, the mouth. 
Gruslue, thick, of thri^dng 

groA\-th. 
Gude, the Supreme Being ; 

good. 
Guid, good. 



Guidman and GuidwLfc, the 
master and mistress of the 
hoxLse ; Young guidman, a 
man newly married. 

Gmdfather, a futher-in-law. 



Guidmother, a mother-in- 
law. 

Gully, or Gullie, a large 
knife. 

Gumlie, mud'dy, turbid. 

Gumption, vmderstanding, 
judgment. 

Gusty, tasteful. 

II. 

Ha', hall. 

Ha' -Bible, the great Bible 

that lies in the hall. 
Hae, to have. 
Haen, had. 
Iluet ; Ficnt had, a petty 

oath of negation, nothing. 
Hafiet, the temple, the side 

of the head. 
Hathins, nearly half, partly. 
Ilag, a sear or gulf in mosses 

or moors, an ugly old wo- 
man. 
Haggis, a kind of pudding 

boiled in the stomach of a 

cow or sheep. 
Hain, to spare, to save. 
Hain'd, spared. 
Hairst, harvest. 
Haith, a petty oath. 
Haivers, nonsense ; speaking 

without thought. 
Hal', or Ilald, an abiding 

place. 
Hale, whole, tight, h':;althy 
Ilaly. holy 



ULOSSAta', 



505 



Hallaii, a partic ular partition 
M'all in a cottage, or more 
properly a scat of turf at 
the outside. 

IIallo^v^nas, Hallow- eve, the 
31st of October. 

Ilaine, home. 

Humely, homely, affable. 

Hanicward, homeward. 

Han', or Haun', hand. 

Hap, an outer garment, man- 
tle, plaid, &c. ; to wrap, to 
cover, to hap. 

Happer, a hopper. 

Happing, hopping. 

Hap-stcp-an'-loup,hop-skip- 
and-leap. 

Harkit, hearkened. 

Ham, very coarse linen. 

Hash, a fellow that neither 
knows how to dress nor 
act with propriety. 

Hastit, hastened. 

Haud, to hold. 

Haughs, low-lying rich lands, 
valleys. 

Haurl, to drag, to peel. 

Haurlin, peeling. 

Haverel, a half-witted per- 
son, one who talks fool- 
ishly. 

Havins, good manners, de- 
corum, good sense. 

Hawkie, a cow, properly one 
with a white face. 

Healsome, healthful, whole- 
some. 

43 



Hcajiit, heaped. 

Hearse, hoarse. 

Hear't, hear it. 

Heartie, dirain, of heart. 

Heather, heath. 

Hech ! oh ! strange ! 

Hecht, promised ; to forc'tcll 
something that is to be gc I 
or given ; foretold ; the 
thing foretold; offered. 

Heckle, a board m which are 
lixed a number of sharp 
pins, used in dressing 
hemp, flax, &c. 

Heeze, to elevate, to raise. 

Hclim, the rudder or helm. 

Herd, to tend flocks ; one 
who tends flocks. 

Hcrrin, a herring. 

Hcrry, to plunder, most 
properly to plunder birds' 
nests. 

Herryment, plundering, de- 
vastation. 

Hersel', herself; also, a herd 
of cattle of any sort. 

Het, hot. 

Heugh, a crag, a coal-pit. 

Hide and Haii-, the carcass 
and hide, the whole. 

Hilch, to hobble, to halt. 

Hilcliin, halting. 

Hiltie-skiltie, in rapid rj:c< 
cession. 

Himsel', himself. 

Hiney, honey. 

Hing, hang. 



GLOSSARt. 



Hii'ple, to walk crazil}', to 

creep. 
Hirplin, walking crazily. 
Hirsel, so many cattle as one 

person can attend. 
Ilistie, dry, chapt, barren. 
n itch, a loop, a knot. 
IJ izzie, huzzy, a young girl. 
Iloddin, the motion of a sage 

countrpnan riding on a 

cart horse; humble. 
Hog-score, a kind of distance 

line, in curling, drawn 

across the rink. 
Hog-shouther, a kind of 

horse-play, by justling 

with the shoulder ; to 

justle. 
Hool, outer skin or case, a 

nut-shell, peas- cod. 
Hoolie, slowly, leisurely. 
Hoolie ! take leisure ! stop ! 
Iloord, a hoard ; to hoard. 
Hoordit, hoarded. 
Horn, a spoon made of 

horn. 
Hornie, one of the many 

names of the Devil. 
Host, or Hoast, to cough. 
Hostin, coughing. 
Hosts, coughs. 
Hotch'd, turned topsy-tur- 

vey, blended, mixed. 
Houghmagandie, fornication. 
Houp, hope. 
Housie, diniin. of house. 
Hove, to heave, to swell. 



Hov'd, heaved, swelled. 

Howdie, a midwife. 

Howe, hoUow ; a hollow or 
dell. 

Howe-backit, sunk in th« 
back ; spoken of a horse, 
&c. 

Howff, a lanllady, a house 
of resort. 

Howk, to dig. 

Howkit, digged. 

Howkin, digging. 

Howlet, or Houlet, an owl. 

Hoy, to urge. 

Hoy't, tu-ged. 

Hoysc, a pull upwards. 

Hoyte, to amble crazily. 

Hughoc, dimin of Hugh. 

Hunkers, the ham, the hind- 
er part of the thigh. 

Hurcheon, a hedgehog ; a 
term of slight anger. 

Hurdles, the loins, the crup- 
per. 

Hushion, a cushion, stock- 
ings without feet. 



I. 

r, in. 

Icker, an ear of com. 
ler-oe, a great-grand-child. 
Ilk, or Ilka, each, every. 
Ill-willie, ill-natured, mail* 

cious, niggardly. 
Ingine, genius, ingenuity. 
Ingle, firo, fire-place. 



507 



t'se, I shall or wilL 
[ther, other, one another. 



Ji D, j ade ; also, a familiar 
tema among country folks 
for a giddy young girl- 
Jag, to prick, to pierce. 

Jauk, to dally, to trifle. 

Jaukin, trifling, dalh-ing. 

Jauntie, dimin. of jaiint. 

Jaup, a jerk of water ; to 
jerk, as agitated water. 

Jaw, coarse raillery ; to pour 
out, to shut, to jerk, as 
water. 

Jiint, a jilt, a giddy gii-1. 

Jimp, to jump ; slender in 
the waist, handsome. 

Jmk, to dodge, to turn a cor- 
ner ; a sudden turning a 
corner. 

Jinker, one who turns quick- 
ly, a gay sprightly girl, a 

Jinking, dodging. [wag. 

Jirk, a jerk. 

Jo, or Joe, a sweetheart, a 
favorite. 

Joctoleg, a kind of knife. 

Jo Ilk, to stoop, to bow the 
hc^d. 

Jow ; To jow, a verb which 
includes both the swing- 
ing motion and pealing 
sound of a large bell. 

fundie, to justle. 



K. 

Kat5, a daw. 

Kail, colewort, a kind of 
broth. 

Kail-nmt, the stem of cole- 
wort. 

Kain, fowls, &c., paid as rent 
by a farmer. 

Kaiugh, carking anxiety, 

Kebars, rafters. 

Kebbuck, a cheese. 

Keek, a peep ; to peep. 

Kelpies, a sort of mischiev- 
ous spirits, said to haunt 
fords and ferries at nigtit, 
especially in storms. 

Ken, to knov/. 

Ken'd, or Kent, knew. 

Kinnin, a small matter. 

Kenspeckle, well knoA^Ti. 

Ket, matted, haiiy ; a fleece 
of wool. 

Kilt, to truss up the clothes. 

Kimnier, a young giii, a gos- 
sip. 

Kin, kindred. 

Kin', kind, 

King's-hood, a certain part 
of the entrails of an ox, 

Kintra, cotuitry. [&c. 

Kmtra-coozer, a country 
stallion. 

Kirn, the harvest supper, a 
chtuTi ; to chum. 

Kirsen, to christen, or bap- 
tize 



"JOS oLossAiir. 

Ivist, a chest, a shop coiuitcr. liallans, Scottish dialect. 
Kitchen, an)'' thing that is Lambic, climin. of himb. 

eaten with bread, to serve Lampit, a kind of shell-fish, 

for soup, gravy, &c. ' Lan', land, estate. 

Kith, kindred. I Lane, lone ; My lane, thy 

Kittle, to tickle ; ticklish, I lane, &c. 

lilcely. i Lanely, lonely. 

Kittlin, a young eat. ! Lang, long ; To tlihik langt 

Kiuttle, to cuddle. j to long, to weary. 

Kiuttlin, cuddling. I Lap, did leap. 

Knaggie, like nags or points Lave, the rest, the remain- 

of rocks, j der, the others. 

Knappin-hammer, a hammer Laverock, the lark. 

for breaking stones. , Lawin, shot, reckoning, biU. 

Knowe, a small round hil- Lawlan', Lowland. 

lock. I Lea, pasture, ground un- 

Knurl, a dwarf. ploughed. 

Kye, cows. Lea'e, to leave. 

Kyle, a district of Ayrshire. ' Leal, loyal, true, faithful. 
Kyte, the belly. I Lea-rig, grassy ridge. 

Kythe, to discover, to show Lear, (pronounced lare,) 

one's self. j learning. 

j Lee-lang, live-long. 
L_ ! Leesome, pleasant. 

I Leeze me, a phrase of con- 
Laddie, dimin. of lad. j gratulatory endearment : I 

Laggcn, the angle between ; am happy in thee, or proud 

the side and bottom of a ' of thee. 

wooden dish. I Leister, a three-pronged dart 

Laigh, low. \ for strilcing fish. 

Lairing, Avading and sinking Lcugh, did laugh. 

in snow, mud, &c. j Leuk, a look ; to look. 

Laith, loath. Libbet, gelded. 

Laithfu', bashful, sheepish, Lie'n, lying. 

modest. j Lift, sky. 

Lalland, a native cf the low- 1 Lightly, snecnngly ; to sneei 

lands of Seotlar.d. at. 



GLOSSARY. 



509 



Lilt, a ballad, a tune ; to 
sing. 

\iinmer, a kept mistress, a 
strumpet. 

Limp't, limped, hobbled. 

Linlc, to trip along. 

Link in, tripping. 

Linn, a water-fall, a preci- 
pice. 

Lint, flax ; Lint i' the bell, 
tlax in tiower. 

Lintwhite, a linnet. 

Lippen'd, trusted, put confi- 
dence in. 

Loan, or Loanin, the place 
of milkiiig. 

Loof, the palm of the hand. 

Loot, did let. 

Loovcs, plural of loof. 

Lomi, a fellow, a ragamuffin, 
a woman of easy .virtue. 

Loup, jump, leap. 

Lowe, a flame. 

Lowin, flaming. 

Lowrie, abbreviation of Law- 
rence. 

Lowse, to loose. 

Lows' d, loosed. 

Lug, the ear, a handle. 

Luggie, a small wooden dish 
with a handle. 

Lum, the chimney. 

Lunch, a large piece of 
cheese, flesh, &c. 

liUnt, a column of smoke ; 
to smoke. 

Luntin, smokin-i. 



Lyart, of a mixe:l color, 
gray. 

M. 

Mae, more. 

Mair, more. 

Maist, most, almost. 

Maistly, mostly. 

Mak, to make. 

Makin, making. 

jNIailen, a farm. 

Mallic, Molly. 

'Mang, among. 

Manse, the parsonage house, 
where the minister lives. 

]\LT,ntcele, a mantle. 

Mark, or ^Icrk, an ancient 
Scottish silver coin, in 
value thirteen pence and 
onc-tliu'd of a penny ster- 
ling. 

Mark, marks, [This and 
several other nouns, which 
in English retiiiire an s to 
form the plural, are, in 
Scotch, like the words 
shee]), deer, the same in 
both numbers.] 

Mar's year, the year 1715. 

Mashlum, or Meslin, mix&J 
corn. 

JIask, to mash, as malt, &C4 
to infuse. 

Maskin-pat, a tea-pot. 

M auk en, a hare. 

Maun, must. 



510 



GLOSSARY. 



Ma-vis, the tlirush. 

Maw, to mow. 

Mawin, mowiaig. 

I*Icere, a mare. 

Meickle, or Meilcle, much 

Mclancholious, m.ournful. 

Melcler, corn, or grain of any 
kind, sent to the mill to be 
gromid. 

MeU, to meddle ; also, a 
mallet for pounding bar- 
ley in a stone trough. 

Melvie, to soil with meal. 

Men', to amend, to reform, 
to change from worse to 
better. 

Mcnse, good manners, deco- 
rum. 

Menseless, ill bred, rude, im- 
pudent. 

Messin, a small dog. 

Midden, a dung-hill. 

Midden-creels, baskets for 
holduig dung. 

Midden-hole, a gutter at the 
bottom of a dunghill. 

Mid, prim, affectedly meek. 

Min', mLnd, remembrance. 

INIind't, mmd it, resolved, in- 
tending. 

Minnie, mother, dam. 

]\Iirk, dark. 

Mirkest, darkest. 

ISILsca', to abuse, to call 

Misca'd, abused. [names. 

Mislear'd, mischievous, un- 
mannerly. 



IMistcuk, mistook, 
blither, a mother. 
Mixtie-maxtie, confusedly 

mixed. 
Moil, labor. 
Moistify, to moisten. 
Monie, or Mouy, many. 
Moop, to nibble, as a sheep. 
Moorlan', of or belonging tc 

moors. 
Jlorn, the next day, to-mor 

row. 
Mottie, full of motes or smaE. 

particles of matter. 
]Mou, the mouth. 
Moudicwort, a mole. 
IMousie, dimin. of mousr/. 
Muckle, or Mickle, great, 

big, much. 
Musie, dimin. of mus>y. 
i\IusKn-kail, broth composecl 

simply of water, shelled 

barley, and greens. 
]SIutchkin, an English pint. 
Myscl', myself. 

N. 

Na, no, not, nor. 
Nae, no, not any. 
Naething, or Naithing, no 

tiling. 
Naig, a horse. 
Nanc, none. 

Nappy, ale ; to be tipsy. 
Natch, to lay hold of vi<>« 

lently. 



CLOSSARY. 



511 



Neebor, a neighbor. 

Ncgleckit, neglected. 

Nouk, nook. 

Niest, next in order, or next 
in time. 

Nieve, the fist. 

Nievefu', a handful, a small 
quantity. 

Nieffer, an exchange ; to ex- 
change, to barter. 

Niger, a negro. 

Nine-tailed-cat, a hangman's 
whip. 

Nit, a nut. 

Norland, of or belonging to 
the north. 

Notic't, noticed, observed. 

Nowte, black cattle. 



0\ of. 

Ochils, name of mountains. 

O haith ! O faith ! an oath. 

Onie, or Ony, any. 

Or is often used for ere, be- 
fore. 

Orra, superfluous, unwanted. 

O't, of it. 

OMghtlins, in the least de- 
gree. 

Omie, shiverirg, drooping. 

Oursel', or Oursels, our- 
selves. 

Outlers, cattle not housed. 

Owre, over, too. 

Owre-hip, a way of fetching 



a blow with a hammef 
over the arm. 

P. 

Pack, intimate, familiar j 
twelve stone of wool, 

Paidel, to paddle, to play in 
water. 

Painch, the paunch. 

Paitrick, a partridge. 

Pang, to cram. 

Parle, speech. 

Parritch, oat-meal pudding, 
a well-known Scotch dish. 

Pat, did put ; a pot. 

Pattle, or Pettle, a plough- 
staff. 

Paughty, proud, haughty. 

Pawky, or Pawkie, cunning, 
sly. 

Pay't, i^aid, beat. 

Pech, to fetch the breath 
short, as in an asthma. 

Pechan, the crop, the sto 
mach. 

Peelin, peeling. 

Pet, a domesticated sheep, a 
great favorite. 

Pettle, to cherish ; a plough- 
staff. 

Philabegs, short petticoats, 
worn by Highlandmen. 

Phraise, fair speeches, flat* 
tery; to flatter,, to whee" 
die. 

Phraisin, flattery. 



512 



GLOSSARY. 



Pibroch, a Highland war- 
song, adapted to the bag- 
pipe. 

Pickle, a small quantity. 

Pine, pain, uneasiness. 

Pit, to put. 

Placard, a pubKc proclama- 
tion. 

Plack, an old Scotch coin, 
the third part of a Scotch 
penny, twelve of which 
make an English penny. 

Plackless, penniless,Vithout 
money. 

Plaid, an outer loose gar- 
ment. 

Platie, dinain. of plate. 

Pleugh, or Plow, a plough, 

Pliskie, a trick, a mischief. 

Pock, a bag, a small sack. 

Poind, to seize on cattle, or 
take the goods, as the laws 
of Scotland allow, for rent. 

Poortith, poverty, indigence. 

Pou, to pull. 

Pouch, a pocket. 

Pouchie, dimin. of pouth. 

Pouk, to pluck. 

Pouse, to push, to penetrate. 

Poussie, a hare, a cat. 

Pout, a poult, a chick. 

Pou't, did pull. 

Pouther, or Powther, pow- 
der. 

Pouthery, like powder. 

Pow, the head, the skull. 

Pownie, a little horse. 



Preen, a pin, a pointed short 
piece of wire. 

Prent, print. 

Prio, to taste. 

Prie'd, tasted. 

Prief, proof. 

Prig, to cheapen, to dispute. 

Priggin, cheapening. 

Primsie, demure, precise. 

Propone, to lay down, to pro- 
pose. 

Provost, the first magistrate 
of a royal borough, an- 
swering to Lord Mayor in 
England. 

Provoscs, plural of Provost. 

Pund, pound, povm Is. 

Pyle ; A pyle o' caiJ, a sin- 
gle grain of chaff. 

Q. 

QcjAic, to quake. 
Quat, quit. 

Quey, a cow from one to two 
years old. 

E. 

Ragweed, herb ragwort. 
Kaible, to rattle nonsenso, 

to talk foolishly. 
Rair, to roar. 
Raize, to madden, to in- 

Hame. 
Ram-feezl'd, fatigued, over* 

spread. 



GLOSSARr. 



51.^ 



Rana-stam, thoughtless, for- 
ward. 

Randie, turbulent, irregular, 
unsettled. 

Rantie, merry, cheerful, jo- 
vial. 

Raploch, properly a coarse 
cloth, but used as an ad- 
jective for coarse. 

Rarely, excellently, very 
well. 

Rash, a rush. 

Rash- buss, a bush of rushes. 

Ratan, a throb, a pulsation. 

Ratton, a rat. 

Raucle, rash, stout, fear- 
less. 

Raught, reached. 

Raw, a row. 

Rax, to stretch. 

Rax'd, stretched, levied. 

Ream, cream ; to cream. 

Reamin, brimful, frothing. 

Reave, rove. 

Reck, to heed. 

Rede, counsel ; to counsel. 

Red-wat-shod, walking m 
blood over the shoe-tops. 

Red-wud, stark-mad. 

Ree, half-drunk, fuddled. 

Reek, smoke ; to smoke. 

R?ekin, smoking. 

Reekit, smoked, smoky. 

Remead, remedy, alterna- 
tive. 

Requite, required. 

Rest, to stand restive. 



Restit, stood restive, stunted, 
withered. 

Restriked, restricted. 

Rew, repctn. 

Rief, or Reef, plenty. 

Rief-randies, sturdy beggarSj 

Rig, a ridge. 

Rin, to run, to melt. -. 

Rink, the course of the 
stones ; a term in curling 
on the ice. 

Rinnin, running. 

Ripp, a handful of un- 
thrashed corn. 

Riskit, made a noise like the 
tearing of roots. 

Rockin, a term derived from 
those prinaitive times, 
when neighbors met al- 
ternately at one another's 
houses, to spend the even- 
ing ; the females, that 
they might enjoy the gos- 
sip, without the imputa- 
tion of idleness, brought 
their rocks, or ciistafls, 
with them. 

Rood, stands likewise for the 
phiral roods. 

Roon, a shred. 

Roose, to praise, to com- 
mend ; applause. 

Roun, round, in the circle of 
neighborhood. 

Roupet, hoarse as with a 
cold. 

Routine, plentiful. 



514 



GLOSSARY. 



How, to roll, to wrap. 
Row't, rolled, wrapped. 
Rowte, to low, to bellow. 
Rowth, or Routh, plenty. 
Rowtiii, loAviiig. 
Rozet, rosin. 
Rung, a cudgel. 
Runkled, wrinkled. 
Runt, the stem of colewort 

or cabbage. 
Ruth, a woman's name, the 

book so called, sorrow. 

S. 

Sae, so. 
Saft, soft. 

Sair, to serve ; a sore. 
Sairly, or Saii'lie, sorely. 
Sair't, served. 
Sark, a shirt. 
Sarkit, provided in shirts. 
Saugh, the willow. 
Saul, soul. 
Saumont, salmon. 
Saunt, a' saint. 
Saut, salt. 
Saw, to sow. ' 
Sawin, sowing 
Sax, six. [injury. 

Scaith, to damage, to injure ; 
Scar, to scare ; a scar. 
Scaud, to scald. 
Scauld, to scold. 
Scone, a kind of bread. 
Sconner, a loathing ; to 
loathe. 



Scraich, to scream as a hen, 
partridge, &c. 

Screed, to tear ; a rent. 

Scrieve, to glide swiftlj 
along. 

Scrievin, gleesomely, s^vif t] y. 

Scrimp, to scant. 

Scrimpet, did scant ; scanty. 

See'd, did see. 

Seizin, seizing. 

Sel', self; Abod/sseZ', one's 
self alone. 

Sell't, did sell. 

Sen', to send. 

Sen't, I, he, or she sent, or 
did send ; sent it. 

Servan', servant. 

Session, an inferior spiritual 
court, of the kirk of Scot- 
land, consisting of an as- 
sembly of elders, who sit 
in judgment, and pro- 
nounce sentence on Cluis- 
tian dchnqucnts. 

Settlin, settling ; To get a 
settlin, to be frightened 
into quietness. 

Sets ; Sets off, goes away. 

Shackl'd, distorted, defornv 
ed. 

Shaird, a shred, a shard. 

Shangan, a stick cleft at on a 
end, for puttiiig the tail of 
a dog, &c., into, by way of 
mischief, or to frighten 
him away. 

Shave, a trick, any thing 



GLOSSARY. 



5la 



done to cheat jo ',osely or 
to divert. 

Shaver, a humorouj wag, a 
barber. 

Shavie; dimin. of shave. 

Sliaw, to show : a small 
wood in B hollow place. 

Shearer, a reaper, one em- 
ployed in cutting down 
corn. 

Sheen, bright, sliining. 

Sheep-shank; To think one's 
self nae sheep-shank, to be 
conceited. 

Sherra-moor, Sheriff-moor, 
the field where the fa- 
mous battle of that name 
was fought in the rebellion 
of 1715. 

Sheugh, a ditch, a trench, a 

Shi el, a shed. [sli^ic^. 

Shni, shriU. 

Shog, a shock, a push off xt 
one side. 

Shool, a shovel. 

Shoon, shoes. 

Shore, to offer, to give, to 
threaten. 

Shor'd, offered. 

Shouther, the shoulder. 

Sic, such. 

SicKcr, sure, steady. 

Sidelins, sidelong, slanting. 

Siller, silver, money. 

Simmer, a summer. 

Signet, singed, scorched, 
despicable. 



Sin, a son. 

Sin', since. 

Suiny, sunny. 

Sinsync, since. 

Skaith. See Scaith. 

Skellum, a worthless fellow. 

Skelp, to strike, to slap, to 

walk with a smart trip-. 

ping step ; a smart stroke. 
Skelpi-limmer, a technical 

term in female scolding. 
Skelpin, stepping, walking, 

eager, warm. 
Skiegh, or Skeigh, proiid, 

nice, high-mettled. 
Skinklin, a small portion. 
Skirl, to shriek, to cry shrU- 

Skirling, shrieking, crying. 

Skirl't, shrieked. 

Sklent, slant ; to run aslant, 

to deviate from truth. 
Sklented, ran, or hit in an 

oblique direction. 
Skreigh, a scream ; to 

scream. 
SkjTin, shining, making a 

great show. 
Skyte, force, violence. 
Slade, did slide. 
Slae, a sloe. 
Slap, a gate, a breach in « 

fence. 
Slaw, slow. 
Slee, sly. 
Sleest, slyest. 
Sleekit, sleek, sly, cunning. 



516 



GLOSSARY. 



Sliddery, slippeiy. 

Slype, to fall over, as a wet 
furrow from the plough. 

Slypet, fell. 

Sma', small. 

Smeddura, dust, powder, 
raettle, sense. 

Smiddy, a smithy. 

Smoor, to smother. 

Smoor'd, smothered. 

Smoutie, smutty, obscene, 
ugly. 

Smytrie, a numerous collec- 
tion of small individuals. 

Shaking, the champing of a 
dog's teeth when he aims 
at his prey. 

Snapper, stumble. 

Snash, abuse, Billingsgate. 

Snaw, snow ; to snow. 

Snaw-broo, melted snow. 

Snawie, snowie. 

Sneck, latch of a door. 

Sned, to lop, to cut off. 

Sneeshin, snuff. 

Sneeshin-mill, a snuff-box. 

Snell, bitter, biting. 

Snick-drawing, thick con- 
triving. 

Bnick, the latchct of a 
door. 

Snool, one whose spirit is 
broken with oppressive 
slavery ; to submit tamely, 
to sneak, to oppress. 

Bnoove, to go smoothly and 
constantly, to sneak. 



Snowk, to scent or snuJ!^ as 
a dog, horse, &c. 

Snowkit, scented, snuifed. ' 

Sodger, a soldier. 

Sonsie, having sweet engag- 
ing looks, lucky, jolly. 

Soom, to swim. 

Sooth, truth, a petty oath. 

Sough, a sigh, a sound dying 
on the ear. 

Souple, flexible, swift. 

Souter, a shoemaker. 

So wens, a dish made of oat 
meal, the seeds of oat- 
meal soured, &c., boiled up 
till they make an agreea- 
ble pudding. 

Sowp, a spoonful, a small 
quantity of any thing li- 
quid, 

Sowth, to try over a tune 
with a low whistle. 

Sowther, solder ; to solder^ 
to cement. 

Spae, to prophesy, to divine. 

Spairge, to dash, tj soil aa 
with mire. 

Spaul, a limb. 

Spavie, the spavin. 

Spaviet, having the spavin. 

Speat, or Spate, a sweeping 
torrent, after rain or thaw 

Speel, to chmb. 

Speet, to spit, to thrusf 
through. 

Spence, the country parlor. 

Spier, to a-?k, to inquire 



GLOSSARf. 



517 



Spier't, inqtiired. 

Splatter, a splutter ; to splut- 
ter. 

Spleuchan, a tobacco-pouch. 

Splore, a frolic, a noise, a 
riot. 

Sprattle, to scramble. 

Spreckled, spotted, spsckled, 
clambered. 

Spring, a quick air in music, 
a Scottish reel. 

Sprit, a tough-rooted plant, 
something like rushes. 

Sprittle, full of spirits. 

Spunk, fire, mettle, wit. 

Spunkie, nettlesome, fiery; 
will-o'-Avisp, or ignis fatu- 
us. 

Spurtle, a stick used in mak- 
ing oat-meal pudding, or 
porridge, a notable Scotch 
dish. 

Squad, a crew, a party. 

Squatter, to flutter in water, 
as a wild duck, &c. 

Squattle, to sprawl, to strug- 
gle. 

Squeel, a scream, a screech ; 
to scream. 

Stacher, to stagger. 

Stack, a rick of corn, haiy, 
&c. 

Staggie, dimin. of stag. 

Stalwart, strong, stout. 

Stan', to stand. 

Stan't, did stand. 

Stane, a stone. 



Stank, did stink ; a pool of 
standing water. 

Stap, stop. 

Stark, stout. 

Startle, to run, as cattle 
stung by the gad-fly. 

Staukin, stalking, walking 
with a stately step. 

Staumrel, a blockhead ; half- 
witted. 

Staw, did steal, to surfeit. 

Stech, to cram the belly. 

Stechin, cramming. 

Steek, to shut ; a stick. 

Steer, to molest, to stir. 

Steeve, firm, compacted. 

Stell, a still. 

Sten, to rear, as a horse. 

Sten't, reared. 

Stents, tribute, dues of aH^ 
kind. 

Stey, steep. 

Steyest, steepest. 

Stibble, stubble. 

Stibble-rig, the reaper in 
harvest who takes the 
lead. 

Stick- an' -stow, totally, alto- 
gether. 

Stilt, a crutch ; to halt, to 
limp. 

Stimpart, the eighth part of 
a Winchester bushel. 

Stirk, a cow or bullock a 
year old. 

Stock, a plant or root of co.3« 
Avart, cabbage, &c. 



518 



GLOSSARY. 



Stockin, stocking; Throwing 
the stockin ; when the 
bride and bridegroom are 
put into bed, and the can- 
dle out, the former throws 
a stockuag at random a- 
mong the company, and 
the person whom it strikes 
is the next that will be 
married. 

Stooked, made up in shocks, 
as corn. 

Stoor, sounding hollow, 
strong, and hoarse. 

Stot, an ox. 

Stoup, or Stowp, a kind of 
jug, or dish, with a han- 
dle. 

Stoure, dust, more particu- 
larly dust in motion. 

Stowlins, by stealth. 

Stown, stolen. 

Stoyte, to stumble. 

Strack, did strilce. 

Strae, straw; To die a fau 
strae death, to die in bed. 

Straik, did strike. 

StraHdt, stroked. 

Strappan, tall and handsome. 

Straught, straight. 

Streek, stretched ; to stretch. 

Striddle, to straddle. 

Stroan, to spout, to piss. 

Strunt, spirituous liquor of 
any kind ; to walic sturdi- 

ly. 

Studdio, an anvil. 



Stumpie, dimin. of stump. 

Stuff, corn or pulse of any 
kind. 

Sturt, troubled ; to molest. 

Sturtin, frighted. 

Sucker, sugar. 

Sud, shoidd. 

Sugh, the continued rush- 
ing noise of wind or wa- 
ter. 

Suthron, southern ; an old 
name for the English na- 
tion^ 

Swaird, sward. 

Swall'd, swelled. 

Swanlvie, or S wanker, a tight 
strapping young ^Uow or 
girl. 

Swap, an exchange ; to bar- 
ter. 

Swarf, swoon. 

Swat, did sweat. 

Swatch, a sample. 

Swats, drink, good ale. 

Sweatin, sweating. 

Sweer, lazy, averse ; Dead- 
sweer, extremely averse. 

Swoor, swore, did swear. 

Swinge, to beat, to strike, to 
whip. 

Swirl, a curve, an eddying 
blast, or pool, a knot in 
wood. 
Swirlie, knaggy, full of 

knots. 
Swith ! get away ! 
Swith(;r, to hesitate La choice^; 



GLOSSARY. 



51^ 



an irresolute wavering in 
choice. 
Byne, since, ago, then. 



Tackets, a kmd of nails for 
driving into the heels of 
shoes. 

Tae, a too ; Thiee-taed, hav- 
ing three prongs. 

Tairge, to examine ; a tar- 
get. 

Tak, to take. 

Takin, taking. 

Tamtallan, the name of a 
moimtain. 

Tangle, a sea- weed. 

Tap, the top. 

Tapeless, heedless, foolish. 

Tarrow, to murmur at one's 
allowance. 

Tarrow' t, murmured. 

Tarry-breeks, a sailor. 

Tartan, a kind of cloth 
checkered with stripes of 
various colors. 

Tauld, or Tald, told. 

Taupie, a foolish, thoughtless 
young person. 

Tauted, or Tautie, matted 
together; spoken of hair 
or wool. 

Tawie, that allows itself 
peaceably to be handled; 
spoken of a horse, cow, &c. 

Teat, a small quantity. 



Tedding, spreading after the 
mower. 

Ten-hours-bite, a slight feed 
to the horses, while in the 
yoke, in the forenoon. 

Tent, a field pulpit, heod, 
caution ; to take heed. 

Tentie, heedful, cautioiis, 
wary. 

Tentless, heedless. 

Teugh, tough. 

Thack, thatch ; Thack an* 
rape, clothing, necessa- 
ries. 

Thae, these. 

Thairms, small guts, fiddle- 
strings. 

Thankit, thanked. 

Theekit, thatched. 

Thegither, together. 

Themsel', themselves. 

Thick, intimate, familiar. 

Thieveless, cold, dry, spited ; 
spoken of a person's de- 
meanor. 

Tliir, these. 

Thirl, to thrill. 

Thirled, thrilled, vibrated. 

Thole, to suffer, to endure. 

Thowe, a thaw ; to thaw. 

Thowless, slack, lazy. 

Thrang, to throng ; a crowd, 

Thrapple, throat, windpipe. 

Thraw, to sprain, to twisty 
to contradict. 

Thrawin, twisting, &c. 

Thrawn, sprained, twisted^ 



520 



GLOSSARY. 



contradicted ; contradic- 
tion. 

!*/. reap, to maintain by dint 

.ifi ;f assertion. 

'Ill' .hin, thrashing. 

Thrrteen, thirteen. 

Thristle, thistle. 

Through, to go on with, to 
make out. 

Tluouther, pell-mell, confus- 
edly. 

Thud, to make a loud inter- 
mittent noise ; a blow pro- 
ducing a dull, heavy 
sound. 

'Phumpit, thumped. 

Thysel', thyself. 

Till't, to it. 

Timmcr, timber. 

Timmcr-propt, propped with 
timber. 

Tine, to lose. 

Tint, lost ; Tint the gate, lost 
the way. 

Tinkler, a tinker. 

Tip, a ram. 

Tippence, two-pence. 

Tirl, to malce a slight noise, 
to uncover. 

Tirlin, uncovering. 

Tither, the other. 

Tittle, to whisper. 

Tittling, whispering. 

Tocher, marriage portion. 

Tod, a fox. 

Toddle, to totter, like the 
■walk of a child. 



Toddlin, tottering. 

Toom, empty. 

Toop, a ram. 

Toun, a hamlet, a farm- 
house. 

Tout, the blast of a horn or 
trumpet ; to blow a horn, 
&c. 

Touzie, rough, shaggy. 

Tow, a rope. 

Towmond, a twelvemonth. 

Toy, a very old fashion of fe- 
male head-dress. 

Toy to, to totter, like old age. 

Trams, shafts. 

Transmogrify' d, transmigra- 
ted, metamorphosed. 

Trashtrie, trash. 

TrcAvs, trows ers. 

Trickle, full of tricks, play- 
ful. 

Trig, spruce, neat. 

Trimly, excellently. 

Trow, to believe. 

Trowth, truth, a petty oath. 

Trysted, appointed ; To 
tryste, to make an ap- 
pointment. 

Try't, tried. 

Tug, raw hide, of which iis 
old times plough-'iracea 
wer3 frequently made. 

Tulzie, a quarrel; to qiiar* 
rel, to fight. 

Twa, two. 

Twa- three, a few. 

'Twad, it would 



<tL(»SSAIIY, 



521 



Twal, twelve ; Twal penny- 
worth, a small quantity, a 
peiitiyworth. 

Twin, to part. 

Tyke, a dog 

Unco, strange, uncoiith, 
very, very great, prodig- 
ious. 

Uncos, news. 

Unfauld, unfold. 

Unkenn'd, vuiknown. 

Unsicker, unsure, un- 
steady. 

Unskaith'd, undamaged, un- 
hurt. 

Unweeting, unwitting, un- 
knowing. 

Upo', upon. 

Urchin, a hedgehog. 

V. 

Vap'rin, vaporing, bullying, 

bragging. 
Vauntie, vain, proud. 
Vera, very. 
Virl, a ring round a column, 

&c. 

W. 

Wa', wall. 
Wa's, walls. 
Wabster, a weave* 



Wad, would ; to bet ; a bet, 

a i^ledge. 
Wadna, would not. 
Wae, woe : sorro-v\'fuL 



U'l 



"Waesucks ! or Waes ip ^ 
bias ! O the pity ! 

Waft, the cross thread' Ihat 
foes from the shuttle 
tlii-ough the web, woo£ 

V/aLtu', wailing. 

Wair, to lay out, to expend. 

Wale, choice ; to choose. 

Wal'd, chose, chosen. 

WaKe, ample, large, jolly; 
also, an interjection of dis- 
tress. 

Wame, the belly. 

Wamefou, a belly-full. 

Wanchancie, unlucky, ill- 
omened, inauspicious. 

Wanrestfu', restless, uneasy. 

Wark, work. 

Wark-lume, a tool to work 
with. 

Warl, or Warld, world. 

Warlock, a wizard. 

Warly, worldly, eager on 
j •massing wealth. 
{"Wnrran, a warrant; to war- 
lant. 

Warst, worst. 

Warstl'd, or Warsl'd, wres- 
tied. 

Wastrie, prodigality. 

"^at, wet; I wat, 1 wot, 
I know. 

Water-brose, brose made (rf 



522 



GLOSSARY. 



meal and M^ator sunply, 
without the addition of 
milk, butter, &c. 

Wattle, a t-\vig, a -wand. 

Wdublc, to swing, to reel. 

Wauglit, a draught. 

Waukit, thickened, as ful- 
lers dc cloth. 

Waukrife, not apt to sleep. 

Waur, worse ; to worst. 

Waur't, worsted. 

Wean, or Weanie, a child. 

Wearie, or Weary ; Monie a 
weary body, many a differ- 
ent person. 

Weason, weasand. 

Weaving the stocking. See 
Throwing the stocking, 
(page 518.) 

Wee, little. 

Wee tilings, little ones. 

Wee bit, a small matter. 

Weel, well. 

Weelfare, welfare. 

Wcet, rain, wetness. 

Weird, fate. 

We'sc, we shall. 

Wha, who. 

Whaizle, to wheeze. 

Whalpit, whelped, brought 
forth. 

Whang, a leathern string, a 
piece of cheese, bread, &c. ; 
to give the strappado. 

Whare, where. 

Whare'cr, wherever. 

Wkase, whose.. 



Whatreclc, nevertheless. 

Whaup, the curlew, a kind 
of water-fowl. 

^Vheep, to fly nimbly, to 
jerk ; Fcnny-wheep, small- 
beer. 

Wliid, the motion of a hare 
running but' not frighted, 
a lie. 

Whidden, running, as a hare 
or coney. 

Whigmelecrics, Avhims, fan- 
cies, crotchets. 

Whjngm, crying, complain- 
ing, fretting. 

Whiiiigiguras, useless orna- 
ments, trifling appendages. 

Whirrin', whirring ; the 
sound made by the flight 
of the partridge, &c. 

Whisht, silence ; To hold 
one's whisht, to be silent 

Whisk, to sweep, to lash. 

Whislcin, large, sweeping. 

Wloiskit, lashed. 

Whissle, a whistle ; to whis- 
tle. 

Whitter, a hearty draught 
of liquor. 

Whunstane, a whinstone. 

Whyles, whiles, sometime*. 

Wi', with. 

Wick, to strike a stone in an 
oblique direction ; a term 
in curling. 

Wicker, willow, (the smaller 



GLOSSARY. 



5538 



Wicldiefu', -\vratLM, angry, 
raging ; one deserving the 
gallows. 

Widdle, struggle, bustle, ef- 
fort. 

Wiel, a small whirlpool. 

Wilie, a diminutive or en- 
dearing term for wife. 

\Vilfu', willing, full of 
will. 

Willyart, basliful, reserved, 
timid. 

Wimple, to meander, to run 
very irregularly. 

Wimpl't, meandered. 

Wimplin, waving, meander- 
ing. 

Win, to wind, to winnow. 

Win', mnd. 

Win's, winds. 

Win't, winded, as a bottom 
of yarn. 

Wmna, will not. 

Wmnock, a ^vindow. 

Wmsome, hearty, vaunted, 
gay. 

Wintle, a staggering motion ; 

to stagger, to reel. 
VVinze, an oath. 

Wiss, to wish, to have a 
strong desire. 

Withouten, ^\ithout. 

Witless, simple, easily im- 
posed on. 

Wizen' d, hide-bound, dried, 
ahnink. 



Wonner, a wonder, a con- 
temptuous appellation. 
Wons, dwells, resides. 
Woo', wool- 
Woo, to coiirt, to make lovo 
to. 

Woddie, a rope, more prop- 
erly one made of Avithes 
or willows, a halter, a gal- 
lows. 

Wooer-hab, the garter knot- 
ted below the knee with a 
couple of loops. 

Wordy, worthy. 

Worsct, worsted. 

Wow ! an exclamation of 
pleasure or wonder. 

Wrack, to tease, to vex. 

Wraith, a spirit, a ghost, an 
apparition exactly like a 
living person, whose ap- 
pearance is said to forbode 
the person's approaching 
death. 

Wrang, wrong; to wrong, 
to mjure. 

Wreeth, a drifted heap of 
snow. 

Writers, attornies, lavv^yers. 

Wud, mad, distracted, wild. 

Wumble, a wimble, an in- 
strument for boring holes. 

Wyle, beguile. 

Wyliecoat, a flannel vest. 

Wyte, blame ; to blame^ to 
acciise. 



534 



tiLOiSSARF. 



Yjs ; this pronoun is fre- 
quently used for thou. 

Year is used both for singu- 
lar and plural years. 

Yearlings, born in the same 
year, coevals. 

Yearns, longs much, desires 
earnestly. 

Yell, barren, that gives no 
milk. 

Verk, to lash, to strike, to 
JerJL. 



Vcrkit, jerked, lashed, 

struck. 
Yestreen, yesternight, the 

night before. 
Yett, a gate, such as is 

usually at the entrance 

into a farm-yard or field- 
Yill, ale. 
Yird, earth. 

Yokin, yoking ; a bout. 
Yont, beyond. 
Yoursel', yourself. 
Yowe, an ewe. 
Yowie, dimin. of yoi^re. 
Yule, Christmas 



LRBMy'28 



LIBRARY 




